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BOOKS  BT  JOANNA  H  MATHEWS. 


I.    THE  BESSIE  BOOKS. 

6  vols.    In  a  box.    $7.50. 

H.    THE  FLOWERETS. 

A  SERIES  OF  STORIES  OK  THE  COMMANDMENTS. 

6  vols.    In  a  box.    $3.60. 

Ill    LITTLE  SUEBEAMS. 

6  vols.    In  a  box.    $6.00. 

IV.    KITTY  AND  LULU  BOOKS. 

6  vols.    In  a  box.    $600. 

V.    MISS  ASHT0FS  GIRLS* 

6  vols.    In  a  neat  box.    $7.50. 

YL    HAPS  AND  MISHAPS. 

6  vols.    $7.50. 


BY  JULIA  A.  MATHEWS. 
I.    DARE  TO  DO  RIGHT  SERIES. 

5  vols.    In  a  box.    $5.50. 

II.    DRAYTON  HALL  STORIES. 

Illustrative  of  the  Beatitudes.    6  vols.    In  a  box.    $4.50. 

HI.    THE  GOLDEN  LADDER  SERIES. 

Stories  illustrative  of  the  Lord's  Prayer.    6  vols.    $3.00. 

♦— 

ROBERT   CARTER   AND  BROTHERS, 

New  York. 


Bessie's  Friends. 


ESSIE  AND  HER  FRIENDS 


JOANNA   H.    MATHEWS, 


AUTHOR  OF   "BESSIE  AT  THE   SEASIDE, 
CITY,"  &C. 


BESSIE  IN  THE 


"  SpeaJc  not  evil  one  of  another." 
"Bear  ye  one  another's  burdens.' 


NEW  YORK: 

ROBERT  CARTER  &  BROTHERS, 

530  Broadway. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  ol  Cougiess,  In  the  year  1868,  by 
Robert  Carter  and  Brothers, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the 
Southern  District  of  New  York. 


5 

r< 


$0 
MY  SISTER  BELLA, 

WHOSE    LOVING    CONSIDERATION 

Has  lightened  the  "  burden  "  qfmany  an  otherwise  weary  hour. 


CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

/.  Jennie's  Home 7 

II.   The  Police-Sergeant's  Story  .         .         .30 

III.  Little  Pitchers 48 

IV.  Papa's  Story .64 

V.  Light  through  the  Clouds  •        •         •        95 

VI.   Uncle  Ruthven 117 

VII.  /  n  Unexpected  Visitor     ....  143 

VIII.  Franky  ....  ...  167 

IX.  Bear  ye  One  Another's  Burdens         .         .  181 

X.   Tivo  Surprises 200 

XL  Blind  Willie 224 

XII.  Maggie's  Book 241 

XIII.  D disappointment 269 

XIV.  Aunt  Patty 294 

XV.    Willie's  Visit 314 

XVI.    Willie's  Recovery 336 


BESSIE  AND  HER  FRIENDS. 


JENNIE'S  HOME. 


ORHER,"  said  little  Jennie  Richards, 
"  isn't  it  'most  time  for  farher  to  be 
home  ?  *' 

"  Almost  time,  Jennie,"  answered  Mrs. 
Richards,  looking  up  from  the  face  of  the 
baby  upon  her  lap  to  the  clock  upon  the  man- 
tel-piece. A  very  pale,  tiny  face  it  was  ;  so 
tiny  that  Sergeant  Richards  used  to  say  he 
had  to  look  twice  to  be  sure  there  was  any 
face  there ;  and  that  of  the  mother  which  bent 
above  it  was  almost  as  pale, —  sick,  anxious, 
and  worn  ;  but  it  brightened,  as  she  answered 
Jennie.  "It  is  five  minutes  before  six;  he 
will  be  here  very  soon  now." 


8  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

Away  ran  Jennie  to  the  corner,  where  stood 
a  cane-seated  rocking-chair,  and  after  a  good 
deal  of  pushing  and  pulling,  succeeded  in 
drawing  it  up  in  front  of  the  stove ;  then  to 
a  closet,  from  which  she  brought  a  pair  of  car- 
pet slippers,  which  were  placed  before  the 
chair. 

"  I  wish  I  was  big  enough  to  reach  farher's 
coat  and  put  it  over  his  chair,  like  you  used 
to,  morher." 

"  That  will  come  by  and  by,  Jennie." 

"  But  long  before  I  am  so  big,  you'll  be 
quite  well,  morher." 

"  I  hope  so,  dear,  if  God  pleases.  It's  a 
long,  long  while  to  sit  here  helpless,  able  to  do 
nothing  but  tend  poor  baby,  and  see  my  dear 
little  daughter  at  the  work  her  mother  ought 
to  do." 

"  Oh,  morher,  just  as  if  I  did  not  like  to 
work !  I  don't  like  'e  reason  why  I  have  to 
do  it,  but  it's  right  nice  to  work  for  you  and 
farher.  And  I  wouldn't  like  to  be  lazy,  so  I 
hope  I  will  always  have  plenty  to  do." 


Jennie's  Home.  9 

"  Dear  child,"  said  Mrs.  Richards,  with  a 
sigh,  "  you're  like  enough  to  see  that  wish 
granted." 

"  'At's  good,"  said  Jennie,  cheerfully,  tak- 
ing her  mother's  words  in  quite  a  different 
spirit  from  that  in  which  they  were  spoken ; 
"  it's  so  nice  to  be  busy." 

And  indeed  it  would  appear  that  this  small 
maiden  —  small  even  for  her  six  years  —  did 
think  so  ;  for  as  she  talked  she  was  trotting 
about  the  room,  busying  herself  with  arrang- 
ing half  a  dozen  trifles,  which  her  quick  eye 
spied  out,  and  which,  according  to  her  way  of 
thinking,  were  not  just  in  proper  order.  First, 
the  hearth,  on  which  no  spot  or  speck  was  to 
be  seen,  must  be  brushed  up  anew ;  next,  the 
corner  of  the  table-cloth  was  to  be  twitched 
into  place,  and  a  knife  laid  more  exactly  into 
straight  line  ;  then  a  ball,  belonging  to  one  of 
the  younger  children,  was  picked  up  and  put 
in  the  toy-basket,  with  the  reminder  to  little 
Tommy  that  father  was  coming,  and  the  room 
must  be  kept  in  good  order.     One  would  have 


io  Bessie  and  her  Friends \ 

thought  it  was  already  as  neat  as  hands  could 
make  it.  Plain  enough  it  was,  certainly,  but 
thoroughly  comfortable.  The  carpet,  though 
somewhat  worn,  and  pieced  in  more  than  one 
place,  was  well  swept  and  tidy,  and  the  stove 
and  the  kettle  which  sang  merrily  upon  its 
top  were  polished  till  they  shone.  The  table 
in  the  centre  of  the  room  was  ready  set  for 
tea,  and,  though  it  held  no  silver  or  cut  glass, 
the  most  dainty  lady  or  gentleman  in  the  land 
need  not  have  hesitated  to  take  a  meal  from 
its  white  cloth  and  spotless  delf  ware.  The 
only  pieces  of  furniture  which  looked  as  if 
they  had  ever  cost  much  were  a  large  mahog- 
any table  with  carved  feet,  which  stood  be- 
tween the  windows,  and  a  bookcase  of  the  same 
wood  at  the  side  of  the  fireplace  ;  but  both  of 
these  were  old-fashioned,  and  although  they 
might  be  worth  much  to  their  owners,  would 
have  brought  little  if  offered  for  sale.  Not  a 
speck  of  dust,  however,  was  to  be  seen  upon 
them  or  the  rest  of  the  furniture,  which  was 
of  stained  pine ;    while   at   the   side  of  Mrs. 


Jennies  Home,  n 

Richards'  arm-chair  stood  the  baby's  wicker 
cradle,  covered  with  a  gay  patchwork  spread. 
And  that  tiny  quilt  was  the  pride  and  delight 
of  Jennie's  heart ;  for  had  she  not  put  it  all 
together  with  her  own  small  fingers  ?  after 
which,  good  Mrs.  Granby,  who  lived  up-stairs, 
had  quilted  and  lined  it  for  her. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  mother,  sat,  in  a 
low  chair,  a  boy  about  nine  years  old.  His 
hands  were  folded  helplessly  together,  and  his 
pale  face  wore  a  sad,  patient,  waiting  look,  as 
if  something  were  coming  upon  him  which  he 
knew  he  must  bear  without  a  struggle.  One 
looking  closer  into  his  eyes  might  notice  a 
dull  film  overspreading  them,  for  Willie  Rich- 
ards was  nearly  blind,  would  be  quite  blind 
in  a  few  weeks,  the  doctors  said. 

Between  Jennie  and  the  baby  came  three 
little  boys,  sturdy,  healthy  children,  always 
clamoring  for  bread  and  butter,  and  frequent 
calls  for  bread  and  butter  were  becoming  a  se- 
rious matter  in  the  policeman's  household  ;  for 
provisions  were  high,  and  it  was  not  as  easy 


12  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

to  feed  eight  mouths  as  it  had  been  to  feed 
four.  This  year,  too,  there  had  been  severe 
sickness  in  the  family,  bringing  great  expense? 
with  it,  and  how  the  wants  of  the  coming  win 
ter  were  to  be  provided  for,  Sergeant  Richards 
could  hardly  tell. 

With  the  early  spring  had  come  scarlet 
fever.  The  younger  children  had  gone  through 
it  lightly,  Jennie  escaping  altogether ;  but 
poor  Willie  had  been  nigh  to  death,  and  the 
terrible  disease  had  left  its  mark  in  the  blind 
ness  which  was  creeping  upon  him.  Then, 
watching  her  boy  at  night,  Mrs.  Richards  had 
taken  cold  which  had  settled  in  her  limbs,  and 
all  through  the  summer  months  she  had  lain 
helpless,  unable  even  to  lift  her  hand.  And 
what  a  faithful  little  nurse  Jennie  had  been  to 
her !  Then  two  months  ago  the  baby  sister 
was  born,  whose  coming  Jennie  had  hailed 
with  such  delight,  but  whose  short  life  had  so 
far  been  all  pain  and  suffering. 

The  mother  was  better  now,  able  to  sit  all 
day  in  the  cushioned  chair,  where  the  strong 


Jennie *s  Home.  13 

arms  of  her  husband  would  place  her  in  the 
morning.  But  there  she  remained  a  prisoner, 
unable  to  move  a  step  or  even  to  stand,  though 
she  could  so  far  use  her  hands  as  to  tend  her 
baby.  But  Mrs.  Richards  had  not  felt  quite 
discouraged  until  to-day.  Now  a  fresh  trou- 
ble had  come,  and  she  felt  as  if  it  were  the 
last  drop  in  the  cup  already  too  full. 

The  children  knew  nothing  of  this,  however, 
and  if  mother's  face  was  sadder  than  usual, 
they  thought  it  was  the  old  racking  pain  in 
her  bones.  The  three  little  boys  were  at  the 
window,  their  chubby  faces  pressed  against  the 
glass,  peering  out  into  the  darkness  for  the 
first  glimpse  of  father.  His  duty  had  kept 
him  from  home  all  day,  and  wife  and  children 
were  more  than  usually  impatient  for  his  com- 
ing. 

It  was  a  small,  two-story,  wooden  house, 
standing  back  from  the  street,  with  a  court- 
yard in  front,  in  the  corner  of  which  grew  an 
old  butternut  tree.  It  bore  but  few  nuts  in 
these  latter  days,  to  be  sure,  but  it  gave  a  fine 


14  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

shade  in  the  summer,  and  the  young  occu- 
pants of  the  house  took  great  pride  and  com- 
fort in  it.  The  branches  were  almost  bare 
now,  however,  and  the  wind,  which  now  and 
then  came  sighing  up  the  street,  would  strip 
off  some  of  the  leaves  which  still  remained, 
and  scatter  them  over  the  porch  or  fling  them 
against  the  window. 

"  You  couldn't  do  wi'out  me  very  well ; 
could  you,  morher  ? "  said  Jennie,  as  she 
straightened  the  corner  of  the  rug, "  even  if 
good  Mrs.  Granby  does  come  and  do  all  the 
washing  and  hard  work." 

"  Indeed,  I  could  not,"  answered  Mrs.  Rich- 
ards. "  My  Jennie  has  been  hands  and  feet 
to  her  mother  for  the  last  six  months." 

"  And  now  she's  eyes  to  Willie,"  said  the 
blind  boy. 

"  And  eyes  to  Willie,"  repeated  his  mother, 
tenderly  laying  her  hand  on  his  head. 

"And  tongue  to  Tommy,"  added  Willie, 
with  a  smile. 

Jennie  laughed  merrily;    but  as  she  was 


cfennie>s  Home.  15 

about  to  answer,  the  click  of  the  gate  was 
heard,  and  with  shouts  of  "  He's  coming ! " 
from  Charlie,  "  Poppy,  poppy ! "  from  the 
younger  boy,  and  a  confused  jargon  from 
Tommy,  which  no  one  but  Jennie  could  un- 
derstand, the  whole  three  tumbled  down  from 
the  window  and  rushed  to  the  door.  A  mo- 
ment later  it  opened,  and  a  tall,  straight  figure 
in  a  policeman's  uniform  appeared. 

"  Halloa,  you  chaps  !  "  said  a  cheery  voice. 
"  Suppose  two  or  three  dozen  of  you  get  out 
of  the  way  and  let  me  shut  the  door  ;  it  wont 
do  to  keep  a  draught  on  mother." 

He  contrived  to  close  the  door,  but  as  for 
getting  farther  with  three  pair  of  fat  arms 
clasping  his  legs,  that  was  quite  impossible. 
The  father  laughed,  threw  his  cap  upon  a 
chair,  and  catching  up  first  one  and  then  an- 
other of  his  captors,  tossed  them  by  turns  in 
the  air,  gave  each  a  hearty  kiss,  and  set  him 
on  his  feet  again. 

"  There,  gentlemen,  now  let  me  get  to 
mother,  if  you  please.     Well,  Mary,  how  has 


1 6  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

it  gone  to-day  ?  Poorly,  eh  ? "  as  he  saw 
that  in  spite  of  the  smile  which  welcomed  him, 
her  cheek  was  paler  and  her  eye  sadder  than 
they  had  been  when  he  left  her  in  the  morn- 
ing. 

u  The  pain  is  no  worse,  dear,  —  rather  better 
maybe,"  she  answered ;  but  her  lip  quivered 
as  she  spoke. 

u  Then  that  monstrous  baby  of  yours  has 
been  worrying  you.  I  am  just  going  to  sell 
her  to  the  first  man  who  will  give  sixpence  for 
her." 

"  No,  no,  no ! "  rose  from  a  chorus  of  young 
voices,  with,  "  She  didn't  worry  scarcely  any 
to-day,  farher,"  from  Jennie,  as  she  lifted  her 
face  for  his  kiss. 

Willie's  turn  came  next,  as  rising  from  his 
chair  with  his  hand  outstretched,  he  made  a 
step  forward  and  reached  his  father's  side. 
One  eye  was  quite  dark,  but  through  the 
thick  mist  which  was  over  the  other,  he  could 
faintly  distinguish  the  tall,  square  figure, 
though,  except  for  the  voice  and  the  sounds  of 


Jennie's  Home,  i*j 

welcome,  lie  could  not  have  told  if  it  were  his 
father  or  a  stranger  standing  there. 

Then  began  the  grand  amusement  of  the 
evening.  Mr.  Richards  pulled  down  the  cov- 
ering of  the  cradle,  turned  over  the  pillow, 
looked  under  the  table,  peeped  into  the  sugar- 
bowl,  pepper-pot,  and  stove,  and  at  last  pre- 
tended to  be  much  astonished  to  discover  tho 
baby  upon  its  mother's  lap,  after  which  the 
hunt  was  carried  on  in  search  of  a  place  big 
enough  to  kiss.  This  performance  was  gone 
through  with  every  night,  but  never  lost  its 
relish,  being  always  considered  a  capital  joke, 
and  was  received  with  shouts  of  laughter  and 
great  clapping  of  hands. 

"Farher,"  said  Jennie,  when  Mr.  Richards 
was  seated  in  the  rocking-chair,  with  a  boy  on 
each  knee,  "  we  have  a  great  surprise  for  your 
supper  to-night." 

If  Jennie  did  not   resemble    her  father   in 

size,  she  certainly  did   in  feature.       In  both 

there  were  the  same  clear,  honest  gray  eyes, 

the  same  crisp,  short  curls,  the  same   ruddy 

2 


1 8  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

cheeks  and  full  red  lips,  the  same  look  of 
kindly  good-nature,  with  something  of  a' spirit 
of  fun  and  mischief  sparkling  through  it. 

"  You  have ;  have  you  ?  "  he  answered. 
"  Well,  I  suppose  you  know  it  takes  a  deal  to 
surprise  a  member  of  police.  We  see  too 
many  queer  folks  and  queer  doings  to  be  easy 
surprised.  If  you  were  to  tell  me  you  were 
going  to  turn  a  bad,  lazy  girl,  I  might  be  sur- 
prised, but  I  don't  know  as  much  short  of 
that  would  do  it." 

Jennie  shook  her  head  with  a  very  knowing 
look  at  her  mother,  and  just  then  the  door 
opened  again  and  a  head  was  put  within. 

"  Oh,  you're  home,  be  you,  Sergeant  Rich- 
ards ? "  said  the  owner  of  the  head.  "  All 
right ;  your  supper  will  be  ready  in  a  jiffy. 
Come  along,  Jennie." 

With  this  the  head  disappeared,  and  Jen- 
nie, obeying  orders,  followed.  In  five  minutes 
they  both  returned,  the  head  this  time  bring- 
ing the  rest  of  the  person  with  it,  carrying  a 
tray.      Jennie  held  in  her  hands  a  covered 


Jennie's  Home.  19 

dish,  which  she  set  upon  the  edge  of  the  table 
with  an  air  of  great  triumph.  She  was  not 
tall  enough  to  put  it  in  the  proper  spot  before 
her  father's  place  ;  but  she  would  by  no  means 
suffer  him  to  help  her,  although  he  offered  to 
do  so.  No,  it  must  wait  till  Mrs.  Granby  had 
emptied  the  tray,  and  could  take  it  from  her 
hands. 

What  the  policeman's  family  would  have 
done  at  this  time  without  Mrs.  Granby  would 
be  hard,  to  tell.  Although  a  neighbor,  she 
had  been  almost  a  stranger  to  them  till  the 
time  of  Willie's  illness,  when  she  had  come  in 
to  assist  in  the  nursing.  From  that  day  she 
had  been  a  kind  and  faithful  friend.  She  was 
a  seamstress,  and  went  out  to  work  by  the 
day ;  but  night  and  morning  she  came  in  to 
see  Mrs.  Richards  and  do  what  she  could  to 
help  her,  until  one  evening  she  had  asked  Mr. 
Richards  if  she  might  have  a  talk  with  him, 
The  policeman  said,  "  Certainly,"  though  he 
was  rather  surprised,  for  Mrs.  Granby  gener- 
ally talked  without  waiting  for  permission. 


20  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

"  I  guess  things  aint  going  just  right  with 
you  ;   be  they,  Sergeant   Richards  ?  "  she  be 
gan. 

Richards  shook  his  head  sadly.  "  I  sup- 
pose if  it  wasn't  right,  it  wouldn't  be,  Mrs. 
Granby ;  but  it's  hard  to  think  it  with  Mary 
lying  there,  bound  hand  and  foot,  my  boy 
growing  blind,  and  the  poor  little  baby  more 
dead  than  alive  ;  with  me  away  the  best  part 
of  the  day,  and  nobody  but  that  green  Irish 
girl  to  do  a  hand's  turn  for  them  all,  unless 
yourself  or  some  other  kind  body  looks  in. 
Jennie's  a  wonderful  smart  child,  to  be  sure  ; 
but  there's  another  sore  cross,  to  see  her  work- 
ing her  young  life  out,  when  she  ought  to  be 
thinking  of  nothing  but  her  play.  And  then, 
how  we're  going  to  make  both  ends  meet  this 
year,  I  don't  know." 

"  So  I  thought,"  answered  Mrs.  Granby ; 
u  and  it's  the  same  with  me  about  the  end? 
meetin'.  Now  just  supposin'  we  helped  one 
another  along  a  bit.  You  see  they've  raised 
my  rent  on  me,  and  I  can't  afford  it  no  way ; 


Jennie's  Home.  21 

besides  that,  my  eyes  is  givin'  out,  -wont 
stand  sewin'  all  day  like  they  used  to  ;  so  I'm 
not  goin'  out  by  the  day  no  more,  but  just  go- 
in'  to  take  in  a  bit  of  work  and  do  it  as  I  can. 
That  Biddy  of  yours  aint  no  good,  —  a  dirty 
thing  that's  as  like  as  not  to  sweep  with  the 
wrong  end  of  the  broom,  and  to  carry  the  baby 
with  its  head  down  and  heels  up.  She  just 
worries  your  wife's  life  out ;  and  every  time 
she  goes  lumberin'  over  the  floor,  Mary  is 
ready  to  screech  with  the  jar.  Now  you  just 
send  her  packin',  give  me  the  little  room  up- 
stairs rent  free  for  this  winter,  and  the  use  of 
your  fire  for  my  bits  of  meals,  and  I'll  do  all 
she  does  and  more  too,  —  washin',  scrubbing 
cookin',  and  nussin'.  You  wont  have  no 
wages  to  pay,  and  though  they  mayn't  come 
to  much,  every  little  tells  ;  and  Mary  and  the 
babies  will  be  a  sight  more  comfortable,  and 
you,  too,  maybe,  if  I  oughtn't  to  say  it.  You 
're  just  right,  too,  about  Jennie.  It  goes  ta 
my  heart  to  see  her  begin  to  put  her  hand  to 
everything  ;  she's  more  willin'  than  she's  able. 


22  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

Pity  everybody  wasn't  the  same ;  it  would 
make  another  sort  of  a  world,  I  guess.  What 
do  you  say  to  it  ?     Will  it  do  ?  " 

Do  !  The  policeman  thought  so  indeed,  and 
was  only  too  thankful.  But  it  was  a  one- 
sided kind  of  a  bargain,  he  said,  all  on  their 
side,  and  Mrs.  Granby  must  take  some  pay 
for  her  services. 

This  she  refused  ;  she  was  not  going  to  give 
them  all  her  time,  only  part  of  it,  and  the 
room  rent  free  was  pay  enough.  But  at  last 
she  consented  to  take  her  meals  with  them, 
though  somehow  she  contrived  to  add  more  to 
the  rather  slender  table  than  she  took  from  it. 
Now  she  had  a  chicken  or  tender  steak  for 
Mrs.  Richards,  "  it  was  so  cheap  she  couldn't 
help  buying  it,  and  she  had  a  fancy  for  a  bit  her- 
self," but  it  was  always  a  very  small  bit  that 
satisfied  her ;  now  a  few  cakes  for  the  chil- 
dren, now  a  pound  of  extra  nice  tea  or  coffee. 
u  Sergeant  Richards  needed  something  good 
and  hot  when  he  came  in  from  duty,  and  he 
never  took  nothin'  stronger,  so  he  ought  to 
have  it." 


Jennie's  Home  23 

From  the  time  that  she  came  to  them,  Mrs. 
Richards  began  to  improve  ;  there  was  no 
longer  any  need  to  worry  over  her  disorderly 
house,  neglected  children,  or  the  loss  of  com- 
fort to  her  husband.  The  baby  ceased  its  end- 
less wailing,  and  with  Jennie  to  keep  things 
trim  after  they  had  once  been  put  in  order, 
the  whole  household  put  on  its  old  air  of  cosy 
neatness.  Truly  she  had  proved  "  a  friend  in 
need,"  this  cheerful,  bustling,  kind-hearted 
little  woman. 

"  Now  you  may  uncover  the  dish,  farher," 
said  Jennie,  as  having  brought  a  little  stand 
and  placed  it  at  her  mother's  side,  she  led 
Willie  to  the  table. 

Mr.  Richards  did  so.  "  Broiled  ham  and 
eggs  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Why,  the  breath  is 
'most  taken  out  of  me !  I  know  where  the 
ham  came  from  well  enough,  for  I  bought  it 
myself,  but  I'd  like  to  know  who  has  been 
buying  fresh  eggs  at  eight  cents  apiece." 

"  No,  Sergeant  Richards,  you  needn't  look 
at  me   that  way,"  said   Mrs.  Granby,  holding 


24  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

up  the  tea-pot  in  one  hand  ;  "  I  aint  been  doin' 
no  such  expenses.  I  brought  them  home,  to 
be  sure ;  but  they  was  a  present,  not  to  me 
neither,  but  to  your  wife  here.'  Here's  an- 
other of  'em  for  her,  biled  to  a  turn  too.  Fried 
eggs  aint  good  for  sick  folks.  'Twasn't  my 
doin'  that  you  got  some  with  your  ham 
neither  ;  I  wanted  to  keep  'em  for  her  eatin', 
but  she  said  you  was  so  fond  of  'em,  and  she 
coaxed  me  into  it.  She  does  set  such  a  heap 
by  you,  she  thinks  nothin'  aint  too  good  for 
you.  Not  that  1  blame  her.  I  often  says 
there  aint  a  better  husband  and  father  to  be 
found  than  Sergeant  Richards,  look  the  city 
through  ;  and  you  do  deserve  the  best,  that's  a 
fact,  if  it  was  gold  and  diamonds  ;  not  that  you 
wouldn't  have  a  better  use  for  them  than  to 
eat  'em ;  diamonds  fetches  a  heap,  they  tell 
me,  but  never  havin'  had  none  of  my  own,  I 
can't  rightly  tell  of  my  own  showin'.  Come, 
eat  while  it's  hot.  I'll  see  to  your  wife.  No, 
thank  you,  none  for  me.  I  couldn't  eat  a 
mouthful  if  you  was  to  pay  me  for  it.     Don't 


Jennie's  Home,  25 

give  the  little  ones  none,  'taint  good  for  'em 
goin'  to  bed.  Jennie  might  have  a  bit,  she's 
been  stirrin'  round  so  all  day,  and  Willie,  too, 
dear  boy."  Mrs.  Granby's  voice  always  took 
a  tenderer  tone  when  she  spoke  of  Willie. 
"  Well,  I'll  just  tell  you  how  I  come  by  them 
eggs.  This  afternoon  I  took  home  some  work 
to  an  old  lady,  a  new  customer  Mrs.  Howard 
recommended  me  to.  When  I  was  let  in, 
there  she  stood  in  the  hall,  talkin'  to  a  wo- 
man what  had  been  sellin'  fresh  eggs  to  her. 
There  they  was,  two  or  three  dozen  of  'e<m, 
piled  up,  lookin'  so  fresh  and  white  and  nice, 
enough  to  make  your  mouth  water  when  you 
looked  at  'em  and  thought  what  a  deal  of 
nourishment  was  in  'em.  So  when  the  lady 
was  through  with  the  woman,  says  I,  '  If  you'll 
excuse  the  liberty,  ma'am,  in  your  house  and 
your  presence,  I'd  just  like  to  take  a  couple 
of  eggs  from  this  woman  before  she  goes.' 
" '  Certainly,'  says  the  lady,  but  the  woman 
says,  '  I  can't  spare  no  more, ;  there's  only  a 
dozen  left,  and  I've  promised  them  to  another 


26  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

lady  ; '  and  off  she  goes.  Well,  me  and  the  old 
lady  settles  about  the  work,  and  she  tells  me 
she'll  have  more  in  a  month's  time,  and  then 
she  says,  '  You  was  disappointed  about  the 
eggs  ? ' 

"  '  Yes,  ma'am,'  says  I. 

"  So,  thinkin',  I  s'pose,  'twasn't  for  a  poor 
seamstress  like  me  to  be  so  extravagant,  she 
says,  '  Eggs  are  high  this  season,  —  eight  cents 
apiece.' 

"  I  didn't  want  to  be  settin'  myself  up,  but 
I  wasn't  goin'  to  have  her  take  no  false  no- 
tions about  me,  so  I  says,  i  Yes,  ma'am,  but 
when  a  body's  sick,  and  aint  no  appetite  to 
eat  only  what  one  forces"  one's  self  to,  I  don't 
think  it  no  sin  to  spend  a  bit  for  a  nice 
nourishin'  mouthful.' 

"  And  she  says,  very  gentle,  '  Are  you 
sick?' 

"  '  Not  I,  ma'am,'  says  I,  '  but  a  friend  of 
mine.  Bad  with  the  rheumatics  these  six 
months,  and  she's  a  mite  of  an  ailin'  baby, 
and  don't  fancy  nothin'  to  eat  unless  it's  some- 


Jennie's  Home,  27 

thin'  delicate  and  fancy,  so  I  just  took  a  no- 
tion I'd  get  a  couple  of  them  eggs  for  her.' 

"  And  she  says,  '  I  see  you  have  a  basket 
there,  just  let  me  give  you  half  a  dozen  of 
these  for  your  friend.'  I  never  thought  of 
such  a  thing,  and  I  was  took  all  aback,  and  I 
said  would  she  please  take  it  out  of  the  work. 
I  couldn't  think  of  takin'  it  in  the  way  of 
charity,  and  she  says,  '  If  I  were  ill,  and  you 
had  any  little  dainty  you  thought  I  might  like, 
would  you  think  it  charity  to  offer  it  to  me  ? ' 

"  '  No,  ma'am,'  says  I ;  '  but  then  there's  a 
difference.' 

" '  I  see  none  in  that  way,'  she  said ;  '  we 
are  all  God's  children.  To  one  he  gives  more 
than  to  another,  but  he  means  that  we  shall 
help  each  other  as  we  find  opportunity,  and  I 
wish  you  to  take  this  little  gift  for  your  friend 
as  readily  as  you  would  offer  it  to  me  if  I  were 
in  like  need.'  Now  wasn't  that  pretty  ?  A 
real  lady,  every  inch  of  her.  And  with  her 
own  hands  she  laid  half  a  dozen  eggs  in  the 
basket.     She  was  askin'  some  more  questions 


28  Bessie  and  her  Friends* 

about  my  sick  friend,  when  somebody  pulls  the 
door-bell  as  furious,  and  when  it  was  opened, 
there  was  a  servant-gal  lookin'  as  scared  as  any- 
thing, and  she  tells  the  old  lady  her  little  grand- 
daughter was  lost,  and  couldn't  be  found 
nowhere,  and  was  she  here,  and  did  they 
know  anything  about  her  ?  Well,  they  didn't 
know  nothin',  and  the  old  lady  said  she'd  be 
round  right  away,  and  she  herself  looked  scared 
ready  to  drop,  and  I  see  she  hadn't  no  more 
thought  for  me  nor  my  belongin's,  nor  couldn't 
be  expected  to,  so  I  just  takes  my  leave.  And 
when  I  come  home  and  shows  Mary  the  eggs, 
nothin'  would  do  but  you  must  have  a  couple 
cooked  with  your  ham  for  supper." 

All  the  time  Mrs.  Granby  had  been  telling 
her  story,  she  was  pouring  out  tea,  waiting  on 
Mrs.  Richards,  spreading  bread  and  butter  for 
the  children,  and  now  having  talked  herself 
out  of  breath,  she  paused.  At  the  last  part  of 
the  story,  the  police-sergeant  laid  down  his 
knife  and  fork,  and  looked  up  at  her. 

u  What  is  your  lady's  name  ?  "  he  asked. 


Jennie's  Home.  29 

"  Mrs.  Stanton,"  answered  Mrs.  Granby. 

"  And  who  is  the  child  that  was  lost  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  only  a  granddaughter  ;  1 
don't  know  if  it's  the  same  name.  Why,  have 
you  seen  the  child  ?  " 

"I  can't  tell  if  it's  the  same,"  answered 
Richards,  "  but  I've  got  a  story  for  you  to- 
night. I  have  been  thinking  all  the  afternoon 
I  had  a  treat  for  Jennie." 

"Is  it  a  duty  story,  farher  ? "  asked  his 
little  daughter. 

"  Yes,  it  is  a  duty  story." 

"  Oh,  that's  good  !  " 

Whenever  her  father  had  a  story  to  tell  of 
anything  which  had  happened  to  him  during 
his  daily  duties,  Jennie  always  called  it  a 
"  duty  story,"  and  she  was  very  eager  for  such 
anecdotes. 


II. 


THE  POLICE-SERGEANT'S  STOUT. 


EA  was  over,  the  dishes  neatly  washed 
and  put  away  by  Mrs.  Granby  and 
Jennie,  the  three  little  boys  snugly 
tucked  in  their  cribs  up-stairs,  the  baby  lying 
quiet  in  its  cradle,  and  Mrs.  Granby  seated 
at  the  corner  of  the  table  with  her  sewing. 
Jennie  sat  upon  her  father's  knee,  and  Willie 
in  his  usual  seat  at  his  mother's  side,  and  the 
policeman  began  his  story. 

"  It  might  have  been  about  two  o'clock 
when,  as  I  was  at  my  desk,  making  out  a  re- 
port, Policeman  Neal  came  in  with  a  lost 
child  in  his  arms,  as  pretty  a  little  thing  as 
ever  I  saw,  for  all  she  did  look  as  if  she  had 
been  having  rather  a  hard  time  of  it,  —  a 
gentleman's  child  and  a  mother's  darling,  used 


The  Police-Sergeant 's  Story.         31 

to  be  well  cared  for,  as  was  easy  to  be  seen 
by  her  nice  white  frock  with  blue  ribbons,  and 
her  dainty  shoes  and  stockings.  But  I  think 
her  mother's  heart  would  have  ached  if  she 
had  seen  her  then.  She  had  lost  her  hat,  and 
the  wind  had  tossed  up  her  curls,  her  cheeks 
were  pale  and  streaked  with  tears,  and  her  big 
brown  eyes  had  a  pitiful  look  in  them  that 
would  have  softened  a  tiger,  let  alone  a 
man  that  had  half  a  dozen  little  ones  of 
his  own  at  home  ;  while  every  now  and  then 
the  great  heavy  sighs  came  struggling  up,  as 
if  she  had  almost  cried  her  heart  out. 

"  When  Neal  brought  her  in,  she  looked 
round  as  if  she  expected  to  see  some  one,  and  so 
it  seems  she  did ;  for  he  put  her  on  think- 
ing she'd  find  some  of  her  own  folks  waiting 
for  her.  And  when  she  saw  there  was  no  one 
there,  such  a  disappointed  look  as  came  over 
her  face,  and  her  lip  shook,  and  she  clasped 
both  little  hands  over  her  throat,  as  if  to  keep 
back  the  sobs  from  breaking  out  again.  A 
many  lost  children  I've  seen,  but  never  one 
who  touched  me  like  her. 


32  Bessie  and  her  Fi'iends. 

"  Well,  Neal  told  where  lie'd  found  her, 
and  a  good  way  she'd  wandered  from  her 
home,  as  we  found  afterwards,  and  how  she 
said  her  name  was  Brightfort,  which  was  as 
near  as  he'd  come  to  it ;  for  she  had  a  crooked 
little  tongue,  though  a  sweet  one.  I  looked 
in  the  directory,  but  no  name  like  that  could 
I  find.  Then  Neal  was  going  to  put  her  down 
and  go  back  to  his  beat,  but  she  clung  fast  to 
him  and  began  to  cry  again.  You  see,  she'd 
kind  of  made  friends  with  him,  and  she  didn't 
fancy  being  left  with  strange  faces  again.  So 
I  just  took  her  from  him,  and  coaxed  her  up 
a  bit,  and  told  her  I'd  show  her  the  telegraph 
sending  off  a  message  how  she  was  there.  I 
put  her  on  the  desk,  close  to  me,  while  I  set 
the  wires  to  work ;  and  as  sure  as  you  live, 
what  did  I  hear  that  minute  but  her  saying  a 
bit  of  a  prayer.  She  didn't  mean  any  one 
to  hear  but  Him  she  was  speaking  to,  but  I 
caught  every  word  ;  for  you  see  my  head  was 
bent  over  near  to  hers.  And  I'll  never  forget 
it,  not  if  I    live  to    be  a  hundred,  no,  nor 


The  Police-tier geanfs  Story,         33 

the  way  it  made  me  feel.  c  Dear  Father  in 
heaven,'  she  said,  '  please  let  my  own  home 
father  come  and  find  me  very  soon,  'cause  I'm 
so  tired,  and  I  want  my  own  mamma  ;  and 
don't  let  those  naughty  boys  hurt  my  Flossy, 
but  let  papa  find  him  too.'  I  hadn't  felt  so 
chirk  as  I  might  all  day,  and  it  just  went  to 
the  soft  place  in  my  heart ;  and  it  gave  me  a 
lesson,  too,  that  I  sha'n't  forget  in  a  hurry." 

Mr.  Richards  stopped  and  cleared  his 
throat,  and  his  wife  took  up  the  corner  of  her 
shawl  and  wiped  her  eyes. 

"  Bless  her  !  "  said  Mrs.  Granby,  winking 
hers  very  hard. 

"  Ay,  bless  her,  I  say,  too,"  continued  the 
policeman.  "  It  was  as  pretty  a  bit  of  faith 
and  trust  as  ever  I  saw ;  and  after  it  she 
seemed  some  comforted,  and  sat  quiet,  watch- 
ing the  working  of  the  wires,  as  if  she  was 
quite  sure  the  One  she'd  looked  to  would 
bring  her  help.  Well,  I  carried  her  round 
and  showed  her  all  there  was  to  see,  which 
wasn't  much,  and  then  I  set  her  to  talking,  to 
3 


34  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

see  if  I  could  find  out  where  she  belonged.  1 
saw  she'd  been  confused  and  worried  before 
Neal  brought  her  in,  and  I  thought  like 
enough  she'd  forgotten.  So,  after  some  coax- 
ing and  letting  her  tell  her  story  in  her  own 
way,  —  how  her  dog  ran  away  and  she  ran 
after  him,  and  so  got  lost,  she  suddenly  re- 
membered the  name  and  number  of  the  street 
where  she  lived.  With  that  she  broke  down 
again,  and  began  to  cry  and  sob  out,  she  did 
want  to  go  home  so  much. 

"  I  was  just  sending  out  to  see  if  she  was 
right,  when  up  dashes  a  carriage  to  the  door, 
and  out  gets  a  gentleman  on  crutches.  The 
moment  the  little  one  set  eyes  on  him,  she 
screams  out  as  joyful  as  you  please,  '  Oh,  it's 
my  soldier,  it's  my  soldier ! ' 

"  Talk  of  an  April  day  !  You  never  saw 
anything  like  the  way  the  sunlight  broke 
through  the  clouds  on  her  face.  The  moment 
he  was  inside  the  door,  she  fairly  flung  her- 
self out  of  my  arms  on  to  his  neck ;  and  it  was 
just  the  prettiest  thing  in  the  world  to  see  her 


The  Police-Sergeant 's  Story.        35 

joy  and  love,  and  how  she  kissed  and  hugged 
him.  As  for  him,  he  dropped  one  crutch,  and 
held  fast  to  her,  as  if  for  dear  life.  I  knew 
who  he  was  well  enough,  for  I  had  seen  him 
before,  and  found  out  about  him,  being  in  the 
way  of  duty.  He's  an  English  colonel  that 
lives  at  the Hotel ;  and  they  tell  wonder- 
ful stories  about  him,  —  how  brave  he  is,  and 
what  a  lot  of  battles  he's  fought,  and  how,  with 
just  a  handful  of  soldiers,  he  defended  a  hos- 
pital full  of  sick  men  against  a  great  force  ot 
them  murdering  Sepoys,  and  brought  every 
man  of  them  safe  off.  All  sorts  of  fine  things 
are  told  about  him  ;  and  I'm  bound  they're 
true  ;  for  you  can  tell  by  the  look  of  him  he's 
a  hero  of  the  right  sort.  I  didn't  think  the 
less  of  him,  either,  that  I  saw  his  eyes  mighty 
shiny  as  he  and  the  baby  held  fast  to  each 
other.     She  wasn't  his  child,  though,  but  Mr. 

Bradford's  up  in Street,  whom  I  know  all 

about ;  and  if  that  crooked  little  tongue  of 
hers  could  have  said  '  B,,'  which  it  couldn't,  I 
might  have  taken  her  home  at  once.     Well, 


36  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

she  was  all  right  then,  and  he  carried  her  off ; 
but  first  she  walked  round  and  made  her 
manners  to  every  man  there  as  polite  as  you 
please,  looking  the  daintiest  little  lady  that 
ever  walked  on  two  feet ;  and  when  1  put  her 
into  the  carriage,  didn't  she  thank  me  for  let- 
ting her  into  the  station,  and  being  kind  to 
her,  as  if  it  was  a  favor  I'd  been  doing,  and  not 
my  duty ;  and  as  if  a  man  could  help  it  that 
once  looked  at  her.  So  she  was  driven  away, 
and  I  was  sorry  to  lose  sight  of  her,  for  I  don't 
know  as  I  ever  took  so  to  a  child  that  didn't 
belong  to  me." 

"Is  that  all?  "  asked  Jennie,  as  her  father 
paused. 

"  That's  all." 

"  How  old  was  she,  farher  ?  " 

"  Five  years  old,  she  said,  but  she  didn't 
look  it.  It  seemed  to  me  when  I  first  saw 
her  as  if  she  was  about  your  size  ;  but  you're 
bigger  than  she,  though  you  don't  make  much 
show  for  your  six  years." 

"  How  funny  she  can't  say  'R'  when  she's 
five  years  old  !  "  said  Jennie. 


The  Police-Sergeant '$  Story.        37 

"  Yes,  almost  as  funny  as  that  my  girl  of 
six  can't  say  ;  th,'  "  laughed  the  sergeant. 

Jennie  smiled,  colored,  and  hung  her  head 

"  And  you  thought  maybe  your  lost  child 
was  Mrs.  Stanton's  granddaughter ;  did  you  ?  " 
asked  Mrs.  Granby. 

"  Well,  I  thought  it  might  be.  Two  chil- 
dren in  that  way  of  life  aint  likely  to  be  lost  the 
same  day  in  the  same  neighborhood  ;  and  we 
had  no  notice  of  any  other  but  my  little  friend. 
You  don't  know  if  Mrs.  Stanton  has  any  re- 
lations of  the  name  of  Bradford  ?  " 

"  No  ;  she's  'most  a  stranger  to  me,  and  the 
scared  girl  didn't  mention  no  names,  only, 
said  little  Bessie  was  missin'." 

"  That's  her  then.  Little  Bradford's  name 
was  Bessie  ;  so  putting  two  and  two  together, 
I  think  they're  one  and  the  same." 

They  talked  a  while  longer  of  little  Bessie 
and  her  pretty  ways  and  her  friend,  the  colo- 
nel ;  and  then  Mrs.  Granby  carried  Willie  and 
Jennie  off  to  bed. 

"  Now,  Mary,"  said  Richards,  going  to  his 


38  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

wife's  side  the  moment  the  children  were  out 
of  hearing,  "  I  know  your  poor  heart  has  been 
aching  all  day  to  know  what  the  eye-doctor 
said  ;  but  the  boy  sticks  so  close  to  you,  and 
his  ears  are  so  quick,  that  I  couldn't  do  more 
than  whisper  'yes'  when  I  came  in,  just  to 
let  you  know  it  could  be  done.  I  was  bring- 
ing Willie  home  when  I  met  Jarvis  with  a 
message  that  I  was  to  go  up  to  the  Chief  on 
special  business,  so,  as  I  hadn't  a  minute  to 
spare,  I  just  had  to  hand  the  poor  little  man 
over  to  Jarvis,  who  promised  to  see  him  safely 
in  your  care.  Dr.  Dawson  says,  Mary,  that 
he  thinks  Willie  can  be  cured  ;  but  we  must 
wait  a  while,  and  he  thinks  it  best  that  he 
should  not  be  told  until  the  time  comes.  The 
operation  cannot  be  performed  till  the  boy 
is  stronger ;  and  it  is  best  not  to  attempt  it 
till  the  blindness  is  total, —  till  both  eyes  are 
quite  dark.  Meanwhile,  he  must  be  fed  upon 
good  nourishing  food.  If  we  can  do  this, 
he  thinks  in  three  months,  or  perhaps  four, 
the  child  may  be  able  to  bear  the  operation. 


The  Police-Sergeant' 's  Story.         39 

After  that  he  says  we  must  still  be  very  care- 
ful of  him,  and  see  that  his  strength  does  not 
run  down;  and  when  the  spring  opens,  we 
must  send  him  away  from  town,  up  among 
the  mountains.  And  that's  what  your  doc- 
tor says  of  you,  too,  Mary ;  that  you  wont  get 
well  of  this  dreadful  rheumatism  till  you  have 
a  change  of  air  ;  and  that  next  summer  I 
ought  to  send  you  where  you  will  have  moun- 
tain air.  Dr.  Dawson's  charge,"  Richards 
went  on  more  slowly,  "  will  be  a  hundred  dol- 
lars,—  he  says  to  rich  folks  it  would  be  three 
hundred,  maybe  more.  But  five  thousand  is 
easier  come  at  by  a  good  many  people  than  a 
hundred  is  by  us.  So  now  we  know  what 
the  doctor  can  do,  we  must  make  out  what 
we  can  do.  I'm  free  to  say  I  think  Willie 
stands  a  better  chance  with  Dr.  Dawson  than 
he  does  elsewhere ;  but  I  don't  see  how 
we  are  to  raise  the  money.  I'd  live  on 
bread  and  water,  or  worse,  lie  on  the  bare 
boards  and  work  like  a  slave,  to  bring  our 
boy's  sight  back  ;  but  I  can't  see  you  suffer; 


40  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

and  we  have  the  rest  of  the  flock  to  think  of 
as  well  as  Willie.  And  I  suppose  it  must  bring 
a  deal  of  expense  on  us,  both  before  and  after 
the  operation  ;  at  least,  if  we  follow  out  the 
doctor's  directions,  and  he  says  if  we  don't, 
the  money  and  trouble  will  be  worse  than 
thrown  away. 

"  The  first  thing  I  have  to  do  is  to  see 
Dr.  Schwitz,  and  find  out  how  much  we  owe 
him  for  attending  you  and  the  children,  off 
and  on,  these  six  months.  I've  asked  him 
half  a  dozen  times  for  his  bill,  but  he  always 
said  '  no  hurry '  and  he  '  could  wait ; '  and 
since  he  was  so  kind,  and  other  things  were 
so  pressing,  I've  just  let  it  go  by." 

When  he  had  spoken  of  the  doctor's  hope 
of  curing  Willie,  his  wife's  pale  face  had 
brightened  ;  but  as  he  went  on  to  say  what 
it  would  cost,  her  head  drooped  ;  and  now  as 
he  spoke  of  the  other  doctor's  bill,  she  covered 
her  face  with  her  hands,  and  burst  into  tears 
and  sobs. 

"  Why,  Mary,  what  is  it,  dear  ?  " 


Bessie's  \Friends. 


p.  40. 


- 


The  Police-Sergeayif s  Story.         41 

"  Oh,  Tom!  Tom!  "  she  broke  forth,  "  Dr. 
Schwitz  sent  his  bill  this  morning.  A  rough- 
looking  man  brought  it,  and  he  says  the  doctor 
must  have  it  the  first  of  the  year,  and  — 
and  —  "  She  could  get  no  farther.  The  poor 
woman  !  it  was  no  wonder ;  she  was  sick  and 
weak,  and  this  unlooked-for  trouble  had  quite 
broken  her  down. 

"  Now,  don't,  Mary,  don't  be  so  cast  down," 
said  her  husband.  "  We'll  see  our  way  out 
of  this  yet.     The  Lord  hasn't  forsaken  us." 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  answered  between  her 
sobs,  "  it  'most  seems  like  it ; "  and  taking  up  a 
book  which  lay  upon  the  table,  she  drew  from 
between  its  leaves  a  folded  paper  and  handed 
it  to  him.  He  was  a  strong,  sturdy  man,  this 
police-sergeant,  used  to  terrible  sights,  and 
not  easily  startled  or  surprised,  as  he  had  told 
his  little  daughter  ;  but  when  he  opened  the 
paper  and  looked  at  it,  all  the  color  left  his 
ruddy  cheeks,  and  he  sat  gazing  at  it  as  if 
he  were  stunned.  There  was  a  moment's 
silence  ;  then  the  baby  set  up  its  pitiful  little 


42  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

cry.     Mrs.  Richards   lifted   it  from   the   cra- 
dle. 

"  Oh,  Tom,"  she  said,  "  if  it  would  please 
the  Lord  to  take  baby  and  me,  it  would  be  far 
better  for  you.  I've  been  only  a  burden  to 
you  these  six  months  past,  and  I'm  likely  to 
be  no  better  for  six  months  to  come,  for  they 
say  I  can't  get  well  till  the  warm  weather 
comes  again.  You'd  be  better  without  us 
dear,  and  it's  me  that's  brought  this  on  you." 

Then  the  policeman  roused  himself. 

"  That's  the  hardest  word  you've  spoken  to 
me  these  ten  years  we've  been  married,  Mary, 
woman,"  he  said.  "  No,  I  thank  the  Lord 
again  and  again  that  that  trouble  hasn't  come 
to  me  yet.  What  would  I  do  without  you, 
Mary,  dear?  How  could  I  bear  it  to  come 
home  and  not  find  you  here,  —  never  again 
to  see  you  smile  when  I  come  in  ;  never  to  hear 
you  say,  'I'm  so  glad  you've  come,  Tom;' 
never  to  get  the  kiss  that  puts  heart  into  me 
after  a  hard  day's  work  ?  And  the  babies,  — 
would  you  wish    them   motherless  ?      To  be 


The  Police-Sergeant 's  Story.        43 

sure,  you  can't  do  for  them  what  you  once 
did,  but  that  will  all  come  right  yet ;  and 
there's  the  mother's  eye  to  overlook  and  see 
that  things  don't  go  too  far  wrong ;  here's 
the  mother  Toice  and  the  mother  smile  for 
them  to  turn  to.  No,  no  ;  don't  you  think 
you're  laid  aside  for  useless  yet,  dear.  As  for 
this  wee  dolly," —  and  the  father  laid  his  great 
hand  tenderly  on  the  tiny  bundle  in  its 
mother's  arms,  —  "  why,  I  think  I've  come  to 
love  her  all  the  more  for  that  she's  so  feeble 
and  such  a  care.  And  what  would  our  Jennie 
do  without  the  little  sister  that  she  has  such  a 
pride  in  and  lays  so  many  plans  for  ?  Why, 
it  would  break  her  heart  to  lose  her.  No,  no, 
Mary,  I  can  bear  all  things  short  of  that 
you've  spoken  of;  and  do  you  just  pray  the 
Lord  that  he'll  not  take  you  at  your  word,  and 
never  hurt  me  by  saying  a  thing  like  that 
again." 

Trying  to  cheer  his  wife,  the  brave-hearted 
fellow  had  almost  talked  himself  into  cheer- 
fulness again  ;  and  Mrs.  Richards  looked  up 


44  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

through  her  tears.     "  And  what  are  we  to  do, 
Tom? "  she  asked. 

"  I  can't  just  rightly  see  my  way  clear  yet," 
he  answered,  thoughtfully,  rubbing  his  fore- 
head with  his  finger  ;  "  but  one  thing  is  cer- 
tain, we've  got  to  look  all  our  troubles  straight 
in  the  face,  and  to  see  what  we  can  do.  What 
we  can  do  for  ourselves  we  must,  then  trust 
the  Lord  for  the  rest.  As  I  told  you,  that  lit- 
tle soul  that  was  brought  up  to  the  station 
this  afternoon  gave  me  a  lesson  I  don't  mean 
to  forget  in  a  hurry.  There  she  was,  the  in- 
nocent thing,  in  the  worst  trouble  I  suppose 
that  could  come  to  such  a  baby,  —  far  from 
her  home  and  friends,  feeling  as  if  she'd  lost 
all  she  had  in  the  world,  —  all  strange  faces 
about  her,  and  in  what  was  to  her  a  terrible 
place,  and  not  knowing  how  she  was  to  get  out 
of  it.  Well,  what  does  she  do,  the  pretty 
creature,  but  just  catch  herself  up  in  the 
midst  of  her  grieving  and  say  that  bit  of  a 
prayer?  and  then  she  rested  quiet  and  waited. 
It  gave  me  a  sharp  prick,  I  can  tell  you,  and 


The  Police-Sergeant 's  Story.        45 

one  that  I  needed.  Says  I  to  myself,  '  Tom 
Richards,  you  haven't  half  the  faith  or  the 
courage  of  this  baby.'  There  had  I  been  all 
day  fretting  myself  and  quarrelling  with  the 
Lord's  doings,  because  he  had  brought  me 
into  a  place  where  I  could  not  see  my  way 
out.  I  had  asked  for  help,  too,  or  thought  I 
had,  and  yet  there  I  was,  faithless  and  unbe- 
lieving, not  willing  to  wait  his  time  and  way  to 
bring  it  to  me.  But  she,  baby  as  she  was, 
knew  in  whom  she  had  trusted,  and  could 
leave  herself  in  his  hands  after  she  had  once 
done  all  she  knew  how.  It's  not  the  first 
teaching  I've  had  from  a  little  child,  Mary, 
and  I  don't  expect  it  will  be  the  last ;  but 
nothing  ever  brought  me  up  as  straight  as 
that  did.  Thinks  I,  the  Lord  forgive  me,  and 
grant  me  such  a  share  of  trust  and  patience  as 
is  given  to  this  his  little  one ;  and  then  I  took 
heart,  and  I  don't  think  I've  lost  it  again,  if  I 
have  had  a  hard  blow  I  did  not  look  for.  I 
own  I  was  a  bit  stunned  at  first ;  but  see  you, 
Mary,  I  am  sure  this   bill   is  not   fair.     Dr, 


46  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

Schwitz  has  overcharged  us  for  certain ;  and 
I  don't  believe  it  will  stand  in  law." 

"  But  we  can't  afford  to  go  to  law,  Tom, 
any  more  than  to  pay  this  sum.  Four  hun- 
dred dollars  I  " 

"  I  would  not  wonder  if  Mr.  Ray  would  see 
me  through  this,"  said  Richards.  "  He's  a 
good  friend  to  me.  I'll  see  him,  anyhow.  I 
never  thought  Dr.  Schwitz  would  serve  me 
like  this  ;  it's  just  revenge." 

"  Have  you  offended  him  ? "  asked  Mrs. 
Richards,  in  surprise. 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  policeman.  "  Yester- 
day I  had  to  arrest  a  nephew  of  his  for  rob- 
bing his  employer.  Schwitz  came  to  me  and 
begged  I'd  let  him  off  and  pretend  he  was  not 
to  be  found,  saying  he  would  make  it  worth 
while  to  me.  I  took  offence  at  his  trying  to 
bribe  me,  which  was  but  natural,  you  will  al- 
low, Mary,  and  spoke  up  pretty  sharp.  He 
swore  he'd  make  me  pay  for  it  if  I  touched  the 
lad  ;  but  I  never  thought  he  would  go  this  far. 
And  to  think  I  have  had  the  handling  of  so 


Tke  Police-Sergeanfs  Story,        47 

many  rogues,  and  didn't  know  one  when  I 
saw  him ! " 

"  And  Willie  ?  "  said  the  poor  mother. 

"  Ah !  that's  the  worst,"  answered  Rich- 
ards. "  I'm  afraid  we  sha'n't  be  able  to  have 
much  done  for  Willie  this  next  year ;  for  even 
if  Dr.  Dawson  will  wait  for  his  pay,  there's  all 
the  expense  that's  to  come  before  and  after 
the  operation  ;  and  I  don't  see  how  we  are 
going  to  manage  it." 

Long  the  good  policeman  and  his  wife  sat 
and  talked  over  their  troubles ;  and  when 
kind  Mrs.  Granby  came  back,  she  was  told  of 
them,  and  her  advice  asked  ;  but  three  heads 
were  no  better  than  two  in  making  one  dollar 
do  the  needful  work  of  ten. 


III. 


LITTLE  PITCHERS. 


HREE  young  ladies  sat  talking  over 
their  work  in  the  pleasant  bow-  win  do  w 
of  Mrs.  Stanton's  sitting-room,  while 
at  a  short  distance  from  them  two  little  curly 
heads  bent  over  the  great  picture-book  which 
lay  upon  the  table.  The  eyes  in  the  curly 
heads  were  busy  with  the  pictures,  the  tongues 
in  the  curly  heads  were  silent,  save  when 
now  and  then  one  whispered,  "  Shall  I  turn 
over  ? "  or  "  Is  not  that  pretty  ?  "  but  the  ears 
in  the  curly  heads  were  wide  open  to  all  that 
was  passing  in  the  bow-window ;  while  the 
three  young  ladies,  thinking  that  the  curly 
heads  were  heeding  nothing  but  their  own 
affairs,  went  on  chattering  as  if  those  attentive 
ears  were  miles  away. 


Little  Pitchers.  49 

"  Annie,"  said  Miss  Carrie  Hall,  "  I  am 
sorry  to  hear  of  the  severe  affliction  likely  to 
befall  your  sister,  Mrs.  Bradford." 

"  What  is  that  ? "  asked  Annie  Stanton, 
looking  up  surprised. 

"  I  heard  that  Mrs.  Lawrence,  Mr.  Brad- 
ford's Aunt  Patty,  was  coming  to  make  her  a 
visit." 

"  Ah,  poor  Margaret !  "  said  Annie  Stanton, 
but  she  laughed  as  she  spoke.  "It  is  indeed  a 
trial,  but  my  sister  receives  it  with  becoming 
submission." 

"Why  does  Mrs.  Bradford  invite  her  when 
she  always  makes  herself  so  disagreeable  ?  " 
asked  Miss  Ellis. 

"  She  comes  self-invited,"  replied  Annie. 
"  Margaret  did  not  ask  her." 

"  I  should  think  not,  considering  the  cir- 
cumstances under  which  they  last  parted," 
said  Carrie  Hall. 

"  Oh,  Margaret  has  long  since  forgotten  and 
forgiven  all  that,"  said  Annie,  "  and  she  and 
Mr.  P  ad  ford  have  several  times  endeavored 


50  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

to  bring  about  a  reconciliation,  inviting  Aunt 
Patty  to  visit  them,  or  sending  kind  messages 
and  other  tokens  of  good-will.  The  old  lady, 
however,  was  not  to  be  appeased,  and  for  the 
last  three  or  four  years  has  held  no  inter- 
course with  my  brother's  family.  Now  she 
suddenly  writes,  saying  she  intends  to  make 
them  a  visit." 

"  I  should  decline  it  if  I  were  in  the  place 
of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bradford,"  said  Carrie. 

"  I  fear  I  should  do  the  same,"  replied 
Annie,  "  but  Margaret  and  Mr.  Bradford  are 
more  forgiving.  I  am  quite  sure  though  that 
they  look  upon  this  visit  as  a  duty  to  be  en- 
dured, not  a  pleasure  to  be  enjoyed,  especially 
as  the  children  are  now  older,  and  she  will 
be  the  more  likely  to  make  trouble  with 
them." 

u  I  suppose  they  have  quite  forgotten  her," 
6aid  Carrie. 

"  Harry  and  Fred  may  remember  her," 
answered  Annie,  "  but  the  others  were  too 
young   tc    r^ollect   her  at   this   distance   of 


Little  Pitchers.  51 

time.  Bessie  was  a  baby,  Maggie  scarcely 
three  years  old." 

"Shall  you  ever  forget  the  day  we  stopped 
at  your  sister's  house  on  our  way  home  from 
school,  and  found  Mrs.  Lawrence  and  nursu 
having  a  battle  royal  over  Maggie  ?  "  asked  the 
laughing  Carrie. 

"  No,  indeed  !  Nurse,  with  Maggie  on  one 
arm  and  Bessie  on  the  other,  fairly  dancing 
about  the  room  in  her  efforts  to  save  the  for- 
mer from  Aunt  Patty's  clutches,  both  terrified 
babies  screaming  at  the  top  of  their  voices, 
both  old  women  scolding  at  the  top  of  theirs  ; 
while  Fred,  the  monkey,  young  as  he  was, 
stood  by,  clapping  his  hands  and  setting  them 
at  each  other  as  if  they  had  been  two  cats." 

"  And  your  sister,"  said  Carrie,  "  coming 
home  to  be  frightened  half  out  of  her  senses  at 
finding  such  an  uproar  in  her  well-ordered 
nursery,  and  poor  little  Maggie  stretching  out 
her  arms  to  her  with  '  Patty  vip  me,  Patty 
vip  me ! '" 

"  And  Margaret  quite  unable  to  quell  the 


52  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

storm  until  Brother  Henry  came  in  and  with 
a  few  determined  words  separated  the  com- 
batants by  sending  nurse  from  the  room," 
continued  Annie,  with  increasing  merriment. 
"  Poor  mammy !  She  knew  her  master's  word 
was  not  to  be  disputed,  and  dared  not  dis- 
obey ;  but  I  think  she  has  never  quite  forgiven 
him  for  that,  and  still  looks  upon  it  as  hard 
that  when,  as  she  said,  she  had  a  chance  '  to 
speak  her  mind  to  Mrs.  Lawrence,'  she  was 
not  allowed  to  do  it." 

"  But  what  caused  the  trouble  ?  "  asked 
Laura  Ellis. 

"  Oh,  some  trifling  mischief  of  Maggie's,  for 
which  auntie  undertook  to  punish  her  severely. 
Nurse  interfered,  and  where  the  battle  would 
have  stopped,  had  not  Henry  and  Margaret 
arrived,  it  is  difficult  to  tell." 

"  But  surely  she  did  not  leave  your  brother's 
house  in  anger  for  such  a  little  thing  as  that !  " 
said  Laura. 

"  Indeed,  she  did  ;  at  least,  she  insisted  that 
Maggie  should  be  punished   and  nurse  dis- 


Little  Pitchers.  53 

missed.  Dear  old  mammy,  who  nursed  every 
one  of  us,  from  Ruthven  down  to  myself,  and 
whom  mother  gave  to  Margaret  as  a  treasure 
past  all  price  when  Harry  was  born,  —  poor 
mammy,  who  considers  herself  quite  as  much 
one  of  the  family  as  any  Stanton,  Duncan,  or 
Bradford  among  us  all,  —  to  talk  of  dismissing 
her !  But  nothing  less  would  satisfy  Aunt 
Patty ;  and  Margaret  gently  claiming  the 
right  to  correct  her  own  children  and  govern 
her  own  household  as  she  saw  fit,  and  Henry 
firmly  upholding  his  wife,  Aunt  Patty  departed 
that  very  afternoon  in  a  tremendous  passion, 
and  has  never  entered  the  house  since." 

"  Greatly  to  your  sister's  relief,  I  should 
think,"  said  Laura.  "  Why,  what  a  very  dis- 
agreeable inmate  she  must  be,  Annie  !  I  air 
sure  I  pity  Mrs.  Bradford  and  all  her  family, 
if  they  are  to  undergo  another  visit  from  her 
now." 

"  Yes,"  said  Annie.  "  Some  sudden  freak 
has  taken  her,  and  she  has  written  to  say  that 
she  will  be  here  next  month.     You  may  well 


54  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

pity  them.  Such  another  exacting,  meddling, 
ill-tempered  old  woman  it  would  be  difficult  to 
find.  She  has  long  since  quarrelled  with  all 
her  relations ;  indeed,  it  was  quite  wonderful  to 
every  one  how  Margaret  and  her  husband  bore 
with  her  as  long  as  they  did.  I  do  not  know 
how  the  poor  children  will  get  on  with  her. 
She  and  Fred  will  clash  before  she  has  been  in 
the  house  a  day,  while  the  little  ones  will  be 
frightened  out  of  their  senses  by  one  look 
of  those  cold,  stern  eyes.  Do  you  remember, 
Carrie,  how,  during  that  last  unfortunate  visit, 
Maggie  used  to  run  and  hide  her  head  in  her 
mother's  dress  the  moment  she  heard  Aunt 
Patty's  step?" 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  said  Carrie.  "  I  suppose 
she  will  be  here  at  Christmas  time  too.  Poor 
little  things !  She  will  destroy  half  their 
pleasure." 

All  this  and  much  more  to  the  same  pur- 
pose fell  upon  those  attentive  ears,  filling  the 
hearts  of  the  little  listeners  with  astonishment 
and  dismay.     It  was  long  since  Maggie's  hand 


Little  Pitchers,  55 

had  turned  a  leaf  of  the  scrap-book,  long  since 
she  or  Bessie  had  given  a  look  or  thought  to 
the  pictures.  There  they  both  sat,  motionless, 
gazing  at  one  another,  and  drinking  in  all  the 
foolish  talk  of  those  thoughtless  young  ladies. 

They  meant  no  harm,  these  gay  girls.  Not 
one  of  them  but  would  have  been  shocked  at 
the  thought  that  she  was  poisoning  the  minds 
of  the  dear  little  children  whom  they  all  loved 
towards  the  aged  relative  whom  they  were 
bound  to  reverence  and  respect.  They  had 
not  imagined  that  Maggie  and  Bessie  were  at- 
tending to  their  conversation,  and  they  were 
only  amusing  themselves ;  it  was  but  idle 
talk.  Ah,  idle  talk,  idle  words,  of  which  each 
one  of  us  must  give  account  at  the  last  great 
day! 

So  they  sat  and  chatted  away,  not  thinking 
of  the  mischief  they  might  be  doing,  until,  at  a 
question  from  Miss  Carrie,  Annie  Stanton 
dropped  her  voice  as  she  answered.  Still  now 
and  then  a  few  words  would  reach  the  little 
ones.      "  Shocking  temper  "  —  "  Poor    Mar- 


56  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

garet  so  uncomfortable  "  —  i(  Mr  Bradford 
very  much  displeased  "  —  "  patience  quite 
worn  out  "  until  Bessie  said,  — 

"  Aunt  Annie,  if  you  don't  mean  us  to 
know  what  7011  say,  we  do  hear  a  little." 

Aunt  Annie  started  and  colored,  then  said, 
hastily  "  Oh,  I  had  almost  forgotten  you  were 
there.  Would  you  not  like  to  go  down-stairs, 
pets,  and  ask  old  Dinah  to  bake  a  little  cake 
for  each  of  you  ?  Run  then,  and  if  you  heard 
what  we  were  saying,  do  not  think  of  it.  It  is 
nothing  for  you  to  trouble  your  small  heads 
about.  I  am  afraid  we  have  been  rather  im- 
prudent," she  continued  uneasily  when  her 
little  nieces  had  left  the  room.  "  Margaret  is 
so  particular  that  her  children  shall  hear 
nothing  like  gossip  or  evil  speaking,  and  I 
think  we  have  been  indulging  in  both.  If 
Maggie  and  Bessie  have  been  listening  to  what 
we  were  saying,  they  will  not  have  a  very 
pleasant  impression  of  Mrs.  Lawrence.  Well, 
there  is  no  use  in  fretting  about  it  now.  What 
is  said  cannot  be  unsaid ;  and  they  will  soon 


Little  Pitchers.  57 

find   out  for  themselves  what  the   old  lady 


is." 

Yes,  what  is  said  cannot  be  unsaid.  Each  lit- 
tle word,  as  it  is  spoken,  goes  forth  on  its  errand 
of  good  or  evil,  and  can  never  be  recalled. 

Perhaps  Aunt  Annie  would  have  regretted 
her  thoughtlessness  still  more  if  she  had  seen 
and  heard  the  little  girls  as  they  stood  together 
in  the  hall.  They  had  no  thought  of  old 
Dinah  and  the  cakes  with  this  important 
matter  to  talk  over.  Not  think  of  what  they 
heard,  indeed  !  That  was  a  curious  thing  for 
Aunt  Annie  to  say.  .  She  had  been  right  in 
believing  that  Maggie  must  have  forgotten 
Mrs.  Lawrence.  Maggie  had  done  so,  but 
now  this  conversation  had  brought  the  whole 
scene  of  the  quarrel  with  nurse  to  her  mind. 
It  all  came  back  to  her  ;  but  in  recollection  it 
appeared  far  worse  than  the  reality.  Aunt 
Patty's  loud,  angry  voice  seemed  sounding  in 
her  eai«,  uttering  the  most  violent  threats,  and 
she  thought  of  the  old  lady  herself  almost 
as  if  she   had  been   some   terrible   monster, 


58  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

ready  to  tear  in  pieces  her  own  poor  fright- 
ened little  self,  clinging  about  nurse's  neck. 

And  was  it  possible  that  this  dreadful  old 
woman  was  really  coming  again  to  their  house 
to  make  a  visit  ?  How  could  papa  and  mam- 
ma think  it  best  to  allow  it  ? 

Such  mischief  had  already  been  done  by 
idle  talk  ! 

"  Maggie,"  said  Bessie,  "  do  you  yemember 
about  that  Patty  woman  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Maggie,  "  I  did  not  re- 
member about  her  till  Aunt  Annie  and  Miss 
Carrie  said  that,  but  I  do  now ;  and  oh,  Bessie, 
she's  awful  I  I  wish,  I  wish  mamma  would 
not  let  her  come.  She's  the  shockingest  per- 
son you  ever  saw." 

"  Aunt  Annie  said  mamma  did  not  want 
her  herself;  but  she  let  her  come  because  she 
thought  it  was  yight,"  said  Bessie. 

"  I  wonder  why  mamma  thinks  it  is  right 
when  she  is  so  cross  and  tempered?"  said 
Maggie,  with  a  long  sigh.  "  Why,  she  used  to 
scold  even  papa  and  mamma!     Oh,  I  remem- 


Little  Pitchers.  59 

oer  her  so  well  now.  I  wish  I  didn't ;  I  don't 
like  to  think  about  it ;  "  and  Maggie  looked 
very  much  distressed. 

Bessie  was  almost  as  much  troubled,  but 
she  put  her  arm  about  her  sister  and  said, 
"  Never  matter,  dear  Maggie,  papa  and  mam- 
ma wont  let  her  do  anything  to  us." 

"  But  suppose  papa  and  mamma  both  had 
to  go  out  and  leave  us,  as  they  did  that  day 
she  behaved  so,"  said  Maggie.  "  Nursey  has  so 
many  to  take  care  of  now,  and  maybe  she'd 
meddle  again,  —  Aunt  Annie  said  she  was  very 
meddling  too,  —  and  try  to  punish  me  when  I 
did  not  do  any  blame." 

"  Jane  would  help  nurse  perfect  us,"  said 
Bessie,  "  and  if  she  couldn't,  we'd  yun  away 
and  hide  till  papa  and  mamma  came." 

"  She  shouldn't  do  anything  to  you,  Bessie. 
I  wouldn't  let  her  do  that,  anyhow,"  said 
Maggie,  shaking  her  head,  and  looking  very 
determined. 

"  How  could  you  help  it  if  she  wanted  to, 
Maggie  ?  " 


60  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

u  I'd  say,  '  Beware,  woman  ! ' "  said  Maggie, 
drawing  her  eyebrows  into  a  frown,  and  ex- 
tending her  hand  with  the  forefinger  raised  in 
a  threatening  manner. 

"  Oh ! "  said  Bessie,  "  what  does  that 
mean  ?  " 

"I  don't  qnite  know,"  said  Maggie,  slowly, 
"  but  it  frighteits  people  very  much." 

"  It  don't  frighten  me  a  bit  when  you  say 
it." 

"  'Cause  you  don't  have  a  guilty  conscience  ; 
but  if  you  had,  you'd  be,  oh,  so  afraid  !  " 

"  How  do  you  know  I  would  ?  " 

"  I'll  tell  you,"  said  Maggie.  "  Uncle  John 
had  a  picture  paper  the  other  day,  and  in  it  was 
a  picture  of  a  woman  coming  in  at  the  door, 
and  she  had  her  hands  up  so,  and  she  looked 
as  frightened,  as  frightened,  and  a  man  was 
standing  behind  the  curtain  doing  so,  and 
under  the  picture  was  '  Beware,  woman  ! '  I 
asked  Uncle  John  what  it  meant,  and  he 
said  that  was  a  wicked  woman  who  was  going 
to  steal  some  papers  so  she  could  get   some 


Little  Pitchers,  61 

money,  and  when  she  came  in,  she  heard 
somebody  say,  '  Beware,  woman,'  and  she  was 
so  frightened  she  ran  away  and  was  never  seen 
again.  I  asked  him  to  tell  me  more  about  it, 
but  he  said,  '  No,  it  was  a  foolish  story,  not  fit 
for  little  people.'  Then  I  asked  him  if.  foolish 
stories  were  only  fit  for  big  people,  but  he  just 
laughed  and  pinched  my  cheek.  But  I  coaxed 
him  to  tell  me  why  the  woman  was  so 
frightened  when  the  man  did  nothing  but  say 
those  two  words,  and  he  said  it  was  because 
she  had  a  guilty  conscience,  for  wicked  people 
feared  what  good  and  innocent  people  did  not 
mind  at  all.  So  if  that  old  Mrs.  Patty  —  I 
sha'n't  call  her  aunt —  don't  behave  herself  to 
you,  Bessie,  I'll  just  try  it." 

"  Do  you  think  she  has  a  guilty  conscience, 
Maggie  ?  " 

"  Course  she  has  ;  how  could  she  help  it  ?  " 
"  And  will  she  yun  away  and  never  be  seen 


ao^ain 


9" 


"  1   guess  so,"    said   Maggie ;    "  anyhow,  I 
hope  she  will." 


62  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

"  1  wonder  why  mamma  did  not  tell  us  she 
was  coming,"  said  Bessie. 

"  We'll  ask  her  to-morrow.  We  can't  do  it 
to-night  because  it  will  be  so  late  before  she 
comes  home  from  Riverside  and  we'll  be 
asleep,  but  we'll  do  it  in  the  morning.  And 
now,  don't  let's  think  about  that  shocking  per- 
son any  more.  We'll  go  and  ask  Dinah  about 
the  cakes." 

But  although  they  resolved  to  try  to  forget 
Aunt  Patty  for  the  present,  they  could  not 
help  thinking  of  her  a  good  deal  and  talking  of 
her  also,  for  their  young  hearts  had  been  filled 
with  dread  of  the  old  lady  and  her  intended 
visit. 

The  reason  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bradford  had 
not  spoken  to  their  children  of  Mrs.  Lawrence's 
coming  was  that  it  was  not  yet  a  settled 
thing ;  and  as  there  was  not  much  that  was 
pleasant  to  tell,  they  did  not  think  it  best  to 
speak  of  her  unless  it  was  necessary.  It  was 
long  since  her  name  had  been  mentioned  in 
the  family,  so  long  that,  as  Mrs.  Bradford  had 


Little  Pitchers. 


63 


hoped  and  supposed,  all  recollection  of  her 
had  passed  from  Maggie's  mind,  until  the 
conversation  she  had  just  heard  had  brought 
it  back. 


IV. 

PAPA'S  STORY. 

jHE  next  morning  while  they  were  at 

breakfast,  the  postman  brought  three 

letters  for  papa  and  mamma. 

"  Margaret,"  said  Mr.  Bradford,  looking  up 

from  one  of  his,  "  this  is    from  Aunt   Patty 

to  say  that  she  will   put  off  her  visit  until 

spring." 

Maggie  and  Bessie  both  looked  up. 
"  Oh  !  "  said  Mrs.  Bradford,  in  a  tone  as  if 
she  were  rather  more  glad  than  sorry  to  hear 
that  Aunt  Patty  was  not  coming  at  present. 
Papa  glanced  at  her  with  a  smile  which  did 
not  seem  as  if  he  were  very  much  disappointed 
either.  Probably  the  children  would  not  have 
noticed  tone  or  smile  had  they  not  been  think- 
ing of  what  they  heard  yesterday. 


Papa's  Story.  65 

"  Holloa !  "  said  Fred,  in  a  voice  of  dismay, 
"  Aunt  Patty  is  not  coming  here  again  ;  is  she  ? 
You'll  have  to  look  out  and  mind  your  P's 
and  Q's,  Midget  and  Bess,  if  that  is  the  case. 
We'll  all  have  to  for  that  matter.  Whew-ee, 
can't  she  scold  though !  I  remember  her 
tongue  if  it  is  four  years  since  I  heard  it." 

"  Fred,  Fred  !  "  said  his  father. 

"  It's  true,  papa  ;  is  it  not  ?  " 

"  If  it  is,'!  replied  his  father,  "  it  does  not 
make  it  proper  for  you  to  speak  in  that  way 
of  one  so  much  older  than  yourself,  my  boy. 
Aunt  Patty  is  not  coming  at  present ;  when 
she  does  come,  I  hope  we  shall  all  be  ready  to 
receive  her  kindly  and  respectfully." 

"  I  see  you  expect  to  find  it  difficult,  papa," 
said  the  rogue,  with  a  mischievous  twinkle  of 
his  eye.  Before  Mr.  Bradford  had  time  to 
answer,  Mrs.  Bradford,  who  had  been  reading 
her  letter,  exclaimed  joyfully,  — 

"  Dear  Elizabeth  Rush  says  she  will  come  to 
us  at  New  Year,  and  make  us  a  long  visit.  I 
wish  she  could  have  come  at  Christmas,  as  I 
6 


66  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

begged  her  to  do,  but  she  says  she  has 
promised  to  remain  in  Baltimore  with  her 
sister  until  after  the  holidays. 

"  Mamma,"  said  Bessie,  "  do  you  mean 
Aunt  Bessie  is  coming  to  stay  with  us  ?  " 

"  Yes,  darling.     Are  you  not  glad  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  I  am,  mamma ;  I  do  love  Aunt 
Bessie,  and  the  colonel  will  be  glad  too." 

"  That's  jolly !  "  exclaimed  Fred  ;  and  a 
chorus  of  voices  about  the  table  told  that  Aunt 
Bessie's  coming  was  looked  forward  to  with 
very  different  feelings  from  those  which  Aunt 
Patty's  excited. 

"  Mamma,"  said  Maggie  suddenly,  as  they 
were  about  leaving  the  table,  "  don't  you  wish 
you  had  forty  children  ?  " 

"  Forty  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Bradford,  laugh- 
ing. "  No,  that  would  be  rather  too  large  a 
family,  Maggie." 

"  But,  mamma,  if  you  had  forty  children, 
the  house  would  be  so  full  there  would  never 
be  room  for  Aunt  Patty." 

The  boys  laughed,  but  mamma  was  grave 
in  a  moment. 


Papa's  Story.  67 

"  Do  you  remember  Aunt  Patty,  my  dar- 
ling ?  "  she  asked,  looking  rather  anxiously  at 
Maggie. 

"  Oh,  yes,  mamma,  I  remember  her  ever  so 
well,"  answered  poor  Maggie,  coloring  all  over 
her  face  and  neck,  and  looking  as  if  the  re- 
membrance of  Aunt  Patty  were  a  great  dis- 
tress. 

"  I  thought  you  had  quite  forgotten  her, 
dear,"  said  her  mother. 

"I  had,  mamma,  but  yesterday  Aunt  Annie 
and  Miss  Carrie  were  talking  about  her,  and 
then  I  remembered  her,  oh !  so  well,  and  how 
fierce  she  looked  and  what  a  loud  voice  she 
had,  and  how  she  scolded,  mamma,  and  how 
angry  she  used  to  be,  and  oh  !  mamma,  she's 
such  a  dreadful  old  person,  and  if  you  only 
wouldn't  let  her  come  to  our  house." 

"  And,  mamma,"  said  Bessie,  "Aunt  Annie 
said  nobody  had  any  peace  from  the  time  she 
came  into  the  house  until  she  went  out,  and 
you  know  we're  used  to  peace,  so  we  can't  do 
without  it." 


68  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

By  this  time  Maggie  was  crying,  and  Bessie 
very  near  it.  Their  mamma  scarcely  knew 
how  to  comfort  them,  for  whatever  they  might 
have  heard  from  Annie  and  her  friends  was 
probably  only  too  true  ;  and  both  she  and 
papa  had  too  much  reason  to  fear  with  Bessie 
that  the  usual  "  peace  "  of  their  happy  house- 
hold would  be  sadly  disturbed  when  Aunt 
Patty  should  come  there  again.  For  though 
the  old  lady  was  not  so  terrible  as  the  little 
girls  imagined  her  to  be,  her  unhappy  temper 
always  made  much  trouble  wherever  she  went. 
All  that  Mrs.  Bradford  could  do  was  to  tell 
them  that  they  must  be  kind  and  respectful  to 
Mrs.  Lawrence,  and  so  give  her  no  cause  of 
offence ;  and  that  in  no  case  would  she  be 
allowed  to  punish  or  harm  them.  But  the 
thing  which  gave  them  the  most  comfort  was 
that  Aunt  Patty's  visit  was  not  to  take  place 
for  some  months,  possibly  not  at  all.  Then 
she  talked  of  Miss  Rush,  and  made  pleasant 
plans  for  the  time  when  she  should  be  with 
them,  and  so  tried  to  take  their  thoughts  from 
Aunt  Patty. 


Papa's  Story.  69 

"  And  Uncle  Ruthven  is  coming  home,  said 
Maggie.  "  Grandmamma  had  a  letter  from 
him  last  night,  and  she  said  he  promised  to 
come  before  the  winter  was  over  ;  and  wont 
we  all  be  happy  then  ?  " 

Mamma  kissed  her  little  daughter's  April 
face,  on  which  the  tears  were  not  dry  before 
smiles  were  dancing  in  their  place,  and  in 
happy  talk  of  Uncle  Ruthven,  Aunt  Patty  was 
for  the  time  forgotten. 

Uncle  Ruthven  was  mamma's  only  brother, 
and  a  famous  hero  in  the  eyes  of  all  the  chil- 
dren. None  of  them  save  Harry  had  ever 
seen  him,  and  he  had  been  such  a  very  little 
boy  when  his  uncle  went  away  ten  years  ago, 
that  he  could  not  recollect  him.  But  his 
letters  and  the  stories  of  his  travels  and  ad- 
ventures had  always  been  a  great  delight  to  his 
young  nieces  and  nephews  ;  and  now  that  he 
talked  of  coming  home,  they  looked  forward 
to  seeing  him  with  almost  as  much  pleasure 
as  if  they  had  known  him  all  their  lives.  As 
Cor  the  mother  and  the  sisters  who  had   been 


70  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

parted  from  him  for  so  long,  no  words  could 
tell  how  glad  they  were.  A  sad  rover  was 
Uncle  Ruthven ;  it  was  easier  to  say  where 
he  had  not  been  than  where  he  had.  He 
had  climbed  to  the  tops  of  high  mountains 
and  gone  down  into  mines  which  lay  far  be- 
low the  surface  of  the  earth  ;  had  peeped  into 
volcanoes  and  been  shut  up  among  icebergs, 
at  one  time  had  slung  his  hammock  under  the 
trees  of  a  tropical  forest,  at  another  had  rolled 
himself  in  his  blankets  in  the  frozen  huts  of 
the  Esquimaux ;  had  hunted  whales,  bears, 
lions,  and  tigers ;  had  passed  through  all  man- 
ner of  adventures  and  dangers  by  land  and  by 
sea;  and  at  last  was  really  coming  home, 
"  tired  of  his  wanderings,  to  settle  down  beside 
his  dear  old  mother  and  spend  the  rest  of  his 
days  witli  her."  So  he  had  said  in  the  letter 
which  came  last  night,  and  grandmamma  had 
read  it  over  many  times,  smiled  over  it,  cried 
over  it,  and  talked  of  the  writer,  until, 
if  Maggie  and  Bessie  had  doubted  the  fact  be- 
fore, they  must  then  have  been  quite  convinced 


Papa's  Story.  71 

that  no  other  children  ever  possessed  such  a 
wonderful  uncle  as  this  Uncle  Ruthven  of 
theirs.  When  he  would  come  was  not  quite 
certain,  —  perhaps  in  two  months,  perhaps  not 
in  three  or  four,  while  he  might  be  here  by 
Christmas  or  even  sooner. 

And  now  came  faithful  old  nurse  to  hear 
the  good  news  and  to  have  her  share  in  the 
general  family  joy  at  the  return  of  her  first 
nursling,  her  beloved  "  Master  Ruthven." 

"  And  will  your  Aunt  Patty  be  here  when  he 
comes,  my  dear  lady  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  think  not,"  said  Mrs.  Bradford,  at  which 
mammy  looked  well  pleased,  though  she  said 
no  more ;  but  Maggie  and  Bessie  understood 
the  look  quite  well. 

Mrs.  Bradford  had  intended  by  and  by  to 
talk  to  her  children  of  Mrs.  Lawrence  and  to 
tell  them  that  she  was  rather  odd  and  different 
from  most  of  the  people  to  whom  they  were 
accustomed,  but  that  they  must  be  patient  and 
bear  witli  her  if  she  was  sometimes  a  little 
provoking  and  cross.     But  now  she  found  that 


72  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

they  already  knew  quite  too  much,  and  she 
was  greatly  disturbed  when  she  thought  that  it 
would  be  of  little  use  to  try  and  make  them 
feel  kindly  towards  the  old  lady.  But  the 
mischief  had  spread  even  farther  than  she  had 
imagined. 

That  afternoon  Maggie  and  Bessie  with 
little  Franky  were  all  in  their  mamma's  room, 
seated  side  by  side  upon  the  floor,  amusing 
themselves  with  a  picture-book.  This  book 
belonged  to  Harry,  who  had  made  it  himself 
by  taking  the  cuts  from  magazines  and  papers 
and  putting  them  in  a  large  blank  book.  It 
was  thought  by  all  the  children  to  be  something 
very  fine,  and  now  Maggie  sat  with  it  upon 
her  lap  while  she  turned  over  the  leaves,  ex- 
plaining such  pictures  as  she  knew,  and  in- 
venting meanings  and  stories  for  those  which 
were  new  to  her. 

Presently  she  came  to  one  which  quite  puz- 
zled her.  On  the  -front  of  the  picture  was  the 
figure  of  a  woman  with  an  eagle  upon  her 
shoulder,  intended   to  represent  America    or 


Pafcfs  Story,  73 

Liberty  ;  while  farther  back  stood  a  man  with 
a  gun  in  his  hand  and  a  lion  at  his  side,  who 
was  meant  for  John  Bull  or  England.  Miss 
America  had  her  arm  raised,  and  appeared  to 
be  scolding  Mr.  England  in  the  most  terrible 
manner.  Maggie  could  not  tell  the  meaning 
of  it,  though  she  knew  that  the  woman  was 
America,  but  Franky  thought  that  he  under 
stood  it  very  well.  Now  Master  Franky  had 
a  good  pair  of  ears,  and  knew  how  to  make  a 
good  use  of  them.  He  had,  also,  some  funny 
ideas  of  his  own,  and  like  many  other  little 
children,  did  not  always  know  when  it  was 
best  to  keep  them  to  himself.  He  had  heard 
a  good  deal  that  morning  of  some  person 
named  Patty,  who  was  said  to  scold  very 
much  ;  he  had  also  heard  of  his  Uncle  Ruth- 
veu,  and  he  knew  that  this  famous  uncle  had 
hunted  lions  in  far-away  Africa.  The  picture 
of  the  angry  woman  and  the  lion  brought  all 
this  to  his  mind,  and  now  he  suddenly  ex- 
claimed, — 

*'  Oh,   my,   my !     Dere's   a  Patty  wis   her 


74  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

chitten,  and  she  stolds  Uncle  'Utven  wis  his 
lion." 

This  was  too  much  for  Maggie.  Pushing 
the  book  from  her  knees,  she  threw  herself 
back  upon  the  carpet  and  rolled  over,  scream- 
ing with  laughter  at  the  joke  of  America  with 
her  eagle  being  mistaken  for  Aunt  Patty  with 
a  chicken ;  Bessie  joined  in,  and  Franky, 
thinking  he  had  said  something  very  fine, 
clapped  his  hands  and  stamped  his  feet  upon 
the  floor  in  great  glee.  Mrs.  Bradford  herself 
could  not  help  smiling,  partly  at  the  droll 
idea,  partly  at  Maggie's  amusement ;  but  the 
next  moment  she  sighed  to  think  how  the 
young  minds  of  her  children  had  been  filled 
with  fear  and  dislike  of  their  father's  aunt, 
and  how  much  trouble  all  this  was  likely  to 
make. 

"  Children,"  said  Mr.  Bradford,  that  even- 
ing, "  who  would  like  to  hear  a  true  story  ?  " 

Papa  found  he  was  not  likely  to  want  for 
listeners,  as  three  or  four  eager  voices  an- 
swered. 


Papa's  Story.  75 

**  Wait  a  moment,  dear,"  he  said,  as  Bessie 
came  to  take  her  usual  place  upon  his  knee, 
and  rising,  he  unlocked  a  cabinet  secretary 
which  stood  at  the  side  of  the  fireplace  in  his 
library.  This  secretary  was  an  object  of  great 
interest  to  all  the  children,  not  because  it  held 
papa's  private  papers,  —  those  were  trifles  of 
very  little  account  in  their  eyes,  —  but  because 
it  contained  many  a  relic  and  treasure,  re- 
membrances of  bygone  days,  or  which  were 
in  themselves  odd  and  curious.  To  almost 
all  of  these  belonged  some  interesting  and 
true  story,  —  things  which  had  happened 
when  papa  was  a  boy,  or  even  farther  back 
than  that  time,  —  tales  of  travel  and  adventure 
in  other  lands,  or  perhaps  of  good  and  great 
people.  So  they  were  pleased  to  see  their 
father  go  to  his  secretary  when  he  had  prom- 
ised "  a  true  story,"  knowing  that  they  were 
sure  of  a  treat. 

Mr.  Bradford  came  back  with  a  small, 
rather  worn,  red  morocco  case,  and  as  soon  as 
they  were  all  quietly  settled,  he  opened  it.     It 


76  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

held  a  miniature  of  a  very  lovely  lady.  Her 
bright  eyes  were  so  sparkling  with  fun  and 
mischief  that  they  looked  as  if  they  would  al- 
most dance  out  of  the  picture,  and  the  mouth 
was  so  smiling  and  lifelike  that  it  seemed  as 
if  the  rosy  lips  must  part  the  next  moment 
with  a  joyous,  ringing  laugh.  Her  hair  was 
knotted  loosely  back  with  a  ribbon,  from 
which  it  fell  in  just  such  dark,  glossy  ringlets 
as  clustered  about  Maggie's  neck  and  shoul- 
ders. It  was  a  very  beautiful  likeness  of  a 
very  beautiful  woman. 

"  Oh,  how  sweet,  how  lovely !  What  a 
pretty  lady  !  "  exclaimed  the  children,  as  they 
looked  at  it. 

"  Why,  she  looks  like  our  Maggie  !  "  said 
Harry. 

rt  Only  don't  flatter  yourself  you  are  such  a 
beauty  as  that,  Midget,"  said  Fred,  mischiev- 
ously. 

"  Oh,  Fred,"  said  Bessie,  "  my  Maggie  is  a 
great  deal  prettier,  and  I  don't  believe  that 
lady  was  so  good  as  Maggie  either." 


Papa's  Story.  77 

"  She  may  have  been  very  good,"  said  Har- 
ry, "  but  I  don't  believe  she  had  half  as  sweet 
a  temper  as  our  Midge.  I'll  answer  for  it  that 
those  eyes  could  flash  with  something  besides 
fun  ;  could  they  not,  papa  ?  " 

"  Was  she  a  relation  of  yours,  papa  ? " 
asked  Fred. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Mr.  Bradford,  "  and  I  am 
going  to  tell  you  a  story  about  her." 

"  One  summer,  a  good  many  years  ago,  two 
boys  were  staying  on  their  uncle's  farm  in  the 
country.  Their  father  and  mother  were  trav- 
elling in  Europe,  and  had  left  them  in  this 
uncle's  care  while  they  should  be  absent.  It 
was  a  pleasant  home,  and  the  boys,  accus- 
tomed to  a  city  life,  enjoyed  it  more  than  I 
can  tell  you.  One  afternoon,  their  uncle  and 
aunt  went  out  to  visit  some  friends,  giving 
the  boys  permission  to  amuse  themselves  out 
of  doors  as  long  as  they  pleased.  All  the  ser- 
vants about  the  place,  except  the  old  cook, 
had  been  allowed  to  go  to  a  fair  which  was 
held  in  a  village  two  or  three  miles  away,  so 


78  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

that  the  house  and  farm  seemed  to  be  quite 
deserted.  Only  one  other  member  of  the  fam- 
ily was  at  home,  and  this  was  an  aunt  whom 
the  boys  did  not  love  at  all,  and  they  were 
only  anxious  to  keep  out  of  her  way." 

"  Papa,"  said  Fred,  eagerly,  "  what  were 
the  names  of  these  boys  and  their  aunt  ?  " 

"  Ahem,"  said  Mr.  Bradford,  with  a  twin- 
kle in  his  eye,  as  he  saw  Fred's  knowing  look. 
"  Well,  I  will  call  the  oldest  boy  by  my  own 
name,  Henry,  and  the  youngest  we  will  call 
Aleck." 

''  Oh,"  said  Fred,  "  and  the  aunt's  name 
was,  I  suppose  —  " 

"  Henrietta,"  said  his  father,  quickly  ;  "  and 
if  you  have  any  remarks  to  make,  Fred,  please 
keep  them  until  my  story  is  done." 

"  Yery  well,  sir,"  said  Fred,  with  another 
roguish  look  at  Harry,  and  his  father  went  on. 

"  Henry  was  a  strong,  healthy  boy,  who  had 
never  known  a  day's  sickness  ;  but  Aleck  was 
a  weak,  delicate,  nervous  little  fellow,  who 
eould  bear  no  excitement  nor  fatigue.     Differ- 


Pafds  Story.  79 

ent  as  they  were,  however,  the  affection  be- 
tween them  was  very  great.  Gentle  little 
Aleck  looked  up  to  his  elder  and  stronger 
brother  with  a  love  and  confidence  which  were 
beautiful  to  see,  while  the  chief  purpose  of 
Henry's  life  at  this  time  was  to  fulfil  the 
charge  which  his  mother  had  given  him  to 
care  for  Aleck,  and  keep  him  as  far  as  he 
could  from  all  trouble  and  harm,  looking 
upon  it  as  a  sacred  trust. 

"  There  was  a  large  old  barn  standing  at 
some  distance  from  the  house,  used  only  for 
the  storing  of  hay  ;  and  as  they  found  the  sun 
too  warm  for  play  in  the  open  air,  Henry  pro- 
posed they  should  go  there  and  make  some 
boats  which  later  they  might  sail  in  the 
brook.  Aleck  was  ready  enough,  and  they 
were  soon  comfortably  settled  in  the  hay-loft 
with  their  knives  and  bits  of  wood.  But 
while  they  were  happily  working  away,  and 
just  as  Henry  was  in  the  midst  of  some  mar- 
vellous story,  they  heard  a  voice  calling  them. 

"  *  Oh,  dear,'  said  little  Aleck, '  there's  Aun« 


80  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

Henrietta !  Now  she'll  make  us  go  in  the 
house,  and  she'll  give  me  my  supper  early  and 
send  me  to  bed,  though  Aunt  Mary  said  I 
might  sit  up  and  have  tea  with  the  rest,  even 
if  they  came  home  late.  Let  us  hide, 
Henry.' 

"  No  sooner  said  than  done.  The  knives 
and  chips  were  whisked  out  of  sight,  Aleck 
hidden  beneath  the  hay.  Henry,  scrambling 
into  an  old  corn-bin,  covered  himself  with  the 
corn-husks  with  which  it  was  half  filled,  while 
the  voice  and  its  owner  came  nearer  and 
nearer. 

"  '  You'd  better  take  care  ;  she'll  hear  you,' 
said  Henry,  as  he  heard  Aleck's  stifled  laugh- 
ter ;  and  the  next  moment,  through  a  crack 
in  the  bin,  he  saw  his  aunt's  head  appearing 
above  the  stairs.  Any  stranger  might  have 
wondered  why  the  boys  were  so  much  afraid 
of  her.  She  was  a  tall,  handsome  lady,  not 
old,  though  the  hair  beneath  her  widow's  cap 
was  white  as  snow.  She  stood  a  moment  and 
cast   her  sharp,  bright  eyes  around  the  hay- 


Papa's  Story.  81 

loft ;  then,  satisfied  that  the  boys  were  not 
there,  went  down  again,  saying  quite  loud 
enough  for  them  to  hear,  — 

" '  If  I  find  them,  I  shall  send  Henry  to  bed 
sarly,  too ;  he's  always  leading  dear  little 
Aleck  into  mischief.  Such  nonsense  in  Mary 
to  tell  that  sick  baby  he  should  sit  up  until 
she  came  home !  * 

"  Now  it  was  a  great  mistake  for  auntie  to 
say  this  of  Henry.  He  did  many  wrong 
things,  but  I  do  not  think  he  ever  led  his  little 
brother  into  mischief;  on  the  contrary,  his 
love  for  Aleck  often  kept  him  from  harm.  So 
his  aunt's  words  made  him  very  angry,  and  as 
soon  as  he  and  Aleck  had  come  out  of  their 
hiding-places,  he  said  many  things  he  should 
not  have  said,  setting  a  bad  example  to  Aleck, 
tfho  was  also  displeased  at  being  called  'a  sick 
baby.' 

"  *  Let's  shut  ourselves  up  in  Dan's  cubby- 
nole,'  said  Henry ;  '  she'll  never  think  of 
looking  for  us  there,  if  she  comes  back.' 

44  Dan's  cubby-hole  was  a  small  room  shut 
6 


82  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

off  from  the  rest  of  the  hayloft,  where  one  of 
the  farm  hands  kept  his  tools ;  and  here  the 
boys  went,  shutting  and  bolting  the  door  be- 
hind them.  They  worked  away  for  more  than 
an  hour,  when  Aleck  asked  his  brother  if  he 
did  not  smell  smoke. 

"  <  Not  I,'  said  Henry ;  <  that  little  nose  of 
yoxirs  is  always  smelling  something,  Aleck.' 

"  Aleck  laughed,  but  a  few  moments  after 
declared  again  that  he  really  did  smell  smoke 
and  felt  it  too. 

"  '  They  are  burning  stubble  in  the  fields ; 
it  is  that  you  notice,'  said  Henry.  But  pres- 
ently he  sprang  up,  for  the  smell  became 
stronger,  and  he  saw  a  little  wreath  of  smoke 
curling  itself  beneath  the  door.  '  There  is 
something  wrong,'  he  said,  and  hastily  draw- 
ing the  bolt,  he  opened  the  door.  What  a 
sight  he  saw  !  Heavy  clouds  of  smoke  were 
pouring  up  the  stairway  from  the  lower  floor 
of  the  barn,  while  forked  flames  darted 
through  them,  showing  that  a  herce  fire  was 
raging  below.     Henry  sprang  forward  to  see 


Pa  fa's  Story.  83 

if  the  stairs  were  burning ;  but  the  flames, 
fanned  by  the  draught  that  came  through  the 
door  he  had  opened,  rushed  up  with  greater 
fury,  and  drove  him  back.  How  could  he 
save  Aleck  ?  The  fire  was  plainly  at  the  foot 
of  the  stairs,  even  if  they  were  not  already 
burning,  while  those  stifling  clouds  of  smoke 
rolled  between  them  and  the  doors  of  the 
haymow,  and  were  now  pouring  up  through 
every  chink  and  cranny  of  the  floor  on  which 
he  stood.  Not  a  moment  was  to  be  lost. 
Henry  ran  back,  and  closing  thp  door,  said  to 
his  terrified  brother,  — 

"  '  Aleck,  you  must  stay  here  one  moment 
until  I  bring  the  ladder.  I  can  let  myself 
down  from  this  little  window,  but  cannot  carry 
you.  Stand  close  to  it,  dear  boy,  and  do  not 
be  frightened.' 

"  Stretching  out  from  the  window,  he  con 
trived  to  reach  an  old  worn-out  leader  which 
would  scarcely  bear  his  weight,  and  to  slide 
thence  to  the  ground.  Raising  the  cry  of 
4  Fire  ! '  he  ran  for  the  ladder,  which  should 


84  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

have  been  in  its  place  on  the  other  side  of 
the  barn.  It  was  not  there.  Frantic  with 
terror,  as  he  saw  what  headway  the  fire  was 
making,  he  rushed  from  place  to  place  in 
search  of  the  missing  ladder  ;  but  all  in  vain  ; 
it  could  not  be  found.  Meanwhile  his  cries 
had  brought  his  aunt  and  the  old  cook  from 
the  house.  Henry  ran  back  beneath  the  win- 
dow of  the  little  room  where  he  had  left  Aleck, 
and  called  to  him  to  jump  down  into  his  arms, 
as  it  was  the  only  chance  of  safety  left.  But, 
alas,  there  was  no  answer ;  the  poor  little  boy 
had  fainted  from  fright.  Back  to  the  door  at 
the  foot  of  the  stairs,  which  were  now  all  in  a 
blaze,  through  which  he  was  about  to  rush, 
when  his  aunt's  hand  held  him  back. 

"  '  Live  for  your  father  and  mother.  I  have 
none  to  live  for.' 

"  With  these  words,  she  threw  her  dress  over 
her  head,  and  dashing  up  the  burning  stairs, 
was  the  next  moment  lost  to  sight.  Two  min- 
utes later,  her  voice  was  heard  at  the  window. 
In  her  arms  she  held  the  senseless  Aleck,  and 


Papa's  Story,  85 

when  Henry  and  the  old  cook  stood  beneath, 
she  called  to  them  to  catch  him  in  their  arms. 
It  was  done  ;  Aleck  was  safe.  And  then  let- 
ting herself  from  the  window  by  her  hands, 
she  fell  upon  the  ground  beside  him  scarcely 
a  moment  before  the  flames  burst  upward 
through  the  floor.  Aleck  was  quite  unhurt, 
but  his  aunt  was  badly  burned  on  one  hand 
and  arm.  She  insisted,  however,  upon  sitting 
up  and  watching  him,  as  he  was  feverish  and 
ill  from  fright.  Late  in  the  night  Henry 
awoke,  and,  opening  his  eyes,  saw  his  aunt 
kneeling  by  the  side  of  the  bed,  and  heard  her 
thanking  God  that  he  had  given  her  this 
child's  life,  beseeching  him,  oh,  so  earnestly, 
that  it  might  be  the  means  of  turning  his 
young  heart  towards  her,  that  there  might  be 
some  one  in  the  world  to  love  her.  Will  you 
wonder  if  after  this  Henry  felt  as  if  he  could 
never  be  patient  or  forbearing  enough  with 
this  poor  unhappy  lady  ?  " 

"  But  what  made  her  so  unhappy,  papa,  and 
why  were  the  boys  so  afraid  of  her  ?  "  asked 
Maggie. 


86  Itessz'e  and  her  Friends, 

"  Well,  dear,  I  must  say  that  it  was  her  vio- 
lent temper,  and  her  wish  to  control  every 
one  about  her,  which  made  her  so  much  feared 
not  only  by  the  boys,  but  by  all  who  lived  with 
her,  But  perhaps  when  I  tell  you  a  little, 
more,  you  will  think  with  me  that  there  was 
much  excuse  for  her. 

"  She  was  the  only  daughter  and  youngest 
child  in  a  large  family  of  boys.  Her  mother 
died  when  she  was  a  very  little  baby,  so  that 
she  was  left  to  grow  up  without  that  tenderest 
and  wisest  of  all  care.  Her  father  and  broth- 
ers loved  her  dearly ;  but  I  am  afraid  they  in- 
dulged and  spoiled  her  too  much.  She  had  a 
warm,  generous,  loving  heart,  but  she  was 
very  passionate,  and  would  sometimes  give 
way  to  the  most  violent  fits  of  temper.  The 
poor  child  had  no  one  to  tell  her  how  foolish 
and  sinful  this  was,  or  to  warn  her  that  she 
was  laying  up  trouble  for  herself  and  her 
friends,  for  her  father  would  never  suffer  her 
to  be  contradicted  or  corrected." 

"  Papa,"  said  Bessie,  as  her  father  paused 


Paj>a's  Story.  87 

for  a  moment,  "  do  you  mean  the  story  of  this 
passionate  child  for  a  lesson  to  me  ?  " 

u  No,  darling,"  said  her  father  ;  "  for  I 
think  my  Bessie  is  learning,  with  God's  help, 
to  control  her  quick  temper  so  well  that  we 
may  hope  it  will  not  give  her  much  trouble 
when  she  is  older.  It  is  not  for  you  more 
than  for  your  brothers  and  sister.  But  I  have 
a  reason  for  wishing  you  all  to  see  that  it  was 
more  the  misfortune  than  the  fault  of  the  lit- 
tle Henrietta  that  she  grew  up  with  an  ungov- 
erned  will  and  violent  temper.  Whatever  she 
wanted  was  given  without  any  thought  for  the 
rights  or  wishes  of  others ;  so  it  was  not 
strange  if  she  soon  came  to  consider  that  her 
will  was  law  and  that  she  must  have  her  own 
way  in  all  things.  Perhaps  those  who  had 
the  care  of  her  did  not  know  the  harm  they 
were  doing ;  but  certain  it  is,  that  this  poor 
child  was  suffered  to  grow  up  into  a  most  self- 
willed  woman." 

"  I  am  very  sorry  for  her,"  said  Bessie, 
"  'cause  she  did  not  have  such  wise  people  as 
mine  to  tell  her  what  was  yight." 


88  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

"  Yes,  she  was  much  to  be  pitied.  But 
you  must  not  think  that  this  little  girl  was 
always  naughty  ;  it  was  not  so  by  any^means. 
And  in  spite  of  the  faults  which  were  never 
checked,  she  was  generally  very  bright,  en- 
gaging, and  sweet.  As  she  grew  older,  she 
became  more  reasonable,  and  as  every  one 
around  her  lived  only  for  her  pleasure,  and 
she  had  all  she  desired,  it  was  not  difficult  for 
her  to  keep  her  temper  under  control.  It  is 
easy  to  be  good  when  one  is  happy. 

"  This  picture,  which  shows  you  how  very 
lovely  she  was,  was  taken  for  her  father  about 
the  time  of  her  marriage,  and  was  said  to  be 
an  excellent  likeness.  Soon  after  this,  she 
went  to  Europe  with  her  husband  and  father. 
There  she  passed  several  delightful  months, 
travelling  from  place  to  place,  with  these  two 
whom  she  loved  so  dearly. 

"  But  now  trouble,  such  as  she  had  never 
dreamed  of,  came  to  this  poor  girl.  They 
were  in  Switzerland,  and  one  bright,  sunny 
day,  when  no  one  thought  of  a  storm,  her  lms « 


Pa  fa's  Ste:y.  89 

band  and  father  went  out  in  a  small  boat  011 
the  Lake  of  Geneva.  There  sometimes  arises 
over  this  lake  a  terrible  north-east  wind, 
which  comes  up  very  suddenly  and  blows  with 
great  violence,  causing  the  waves  to  rise  to  a 
height  which  would  be  thought  almost  impos- 
sible by  one  who  had  not  seen  it.  For  some 
reason  Henrietta  had  not  gone  with  the  two 
gentlemen,  but  when  she  knew  it  was  time  for 
them  to  be  coming  in,  she  went  down  to  the 
shore  to  meet  them.  She  soon  saw  the  boat 
skimming  along,  and  could  almost  distinguish 
the  faces  of  the  two  dear  ones  for  whom  she 
was  watching,  when  this  terrible  wind  came 
sweeping  down  over  the  water.  She  saw  them 
as  they  struggled  against  it,  trying  with  all 
their  strength  to  reach  the  shore  ;  but  in  vain. 
Wave  after  wave  rolled  into  the  little  boat, 
and  before  many  minutes  it  sank.  Henrietta 
stood  upon  the  shore,  and  as  she  stretched  out 
her  helpless  hands  toward  them,  saw  her  hus- 
band and  father  drown.  Do  you  wonder  that 
the  sight  drove  her  frantic  ?     That  those  who 


90  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

stood  beside  her  could  scarcely  prevent  her 
from  throwing  herself  into  those  waters  which 
covered  all  she  loved  best?  Then  came  a 
long  and  terrible  illness,  during  which  that 
dark  hair  changed  to  snowy  white." 

<;  Papa,"  said  Bessie,  whose  tender  little 
heart  could  not  bear  to  hear  of  trouble  or  dis- 
tress which  she  could  not  comfort,  —  "  papa,  I 
don't  like  this  story  ;  it  is  too  mournful." 

"  I  have  almost  done  with  this  part  of  it, 
dear,"  said  her  father,  "  and  I  tell  it  to  you 
that  you  may  know  how  much  need  this  poor 
woman  had  that  others  should  be  kind  and 
patient  with  her,  and  how  much  excuse  there 
was  for  her  when  all  this  sorrow  and  trouble 
made  her  irritable  and  impatient. 

"  Her  brother  came  for  her  and  took  her 
home,  but  not  one  of  her  friends  could  make 
her  happy  or  contented ;  for  this  poor  lady 
did  not  know  where  to  turn  for  the  best  of  all 
comfort,  and  she  had  no  strength  of  her  own 
to  lean  upon.  So  the  faults  of  temper  and 
disposition,  which  had  been  passed  over  when 


Papa's  Story,  91 

she  was  young  and  happy,  now  grew  worse 
and  worse,  making  her  so  irritable  and  cross, 
so  self-willed  and  determined,  that  it  was  al- 
most impossible  to  live  with  her.  Then  for 
years  she  was  a  great  sufferer,  and  besides  all 
this,  other  troubles  came  upon  her,  —  the  loss 
of  a  great  part  of  her  fortune  through  one 
whom  she  had  trusted,  and  various  other  tri- 
als. So  by  degrees  she  drove  one  after  an- 
other of  her  friends  from  her,  until  she 
seemed  to  stand  quite  alone  in  the  world,  and 
to  be,  as  she  said, '  without  any  one  to  care 
for  her.'  " 

"  Did  not  Aleck  love  her  after  the  fire  ? " 
asked  Bessie. 

"  I  think  he  was  very  grateful  to  her,  dear, 
but  I  am  afraid  he  never  became  very  fond  of 
her.  He  was  a  gentle,  timid  little  fellow, 
and  though  his  aunt  was  never  harsh  to  him, 
it  used  to  frighten  him  to  see  her  severity  with 
other  people." 

"  I'd  have  loved  her,  even  if  she  was  cross," 
said   Maggie,   looking   again    at  the  picture. 


92  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

u  I'd  have  been  so  good  to  her  that  she 
couldn't  be  unkind  to  me,  and  if  she  had 
scolded  me  a  little,  I  wouldn't  have  minded, 
because  I'd  have  been  so  sorry  for  her." 

"  Oh,  Midget,"  said  Harry,  "  you  would 
have  been  frightened  out  of  your  wits  at  her 
first  cross  word." 

"  No,  I  wouldn't,  Harry  ;  and  I  would  try 
to  be  patient,  even  if  she  scolded  me  like  • — 
like  Aunt  Patty." 

"  And  what  if  she  was  Aunt  Patty  ?  "  said 
Fred. 

"  But  then  she  wasn't,  you  know." 

u  But  she  was,"  said  papa,  smiling. 

Maggie  and  Bessie  opened  their  eyes  very 
wide  at  this  astonishing  news. 

u  You  said  her  name  was  Henrietta,  papa," 
said  Maggie. 

"Aunt  Patty's  name  is  also  Henrietta,"  re- 
plied Mr.  Bradford,  "  and  when  she  was  young, 
she  was  generally  called  so." 

"  And  Henry  was  this  Henry,  our  own 
papa,"   said  Fred,  laying  his  hand  on  his  fa- 


Papa's  Story,  93 

tlier's  shoulder.  "  And  Aleck  was  Uncle  Al- 
exander, who  died  so  long  ago,  before  any  of 
us  were  born.    I  guessed  it  at  the  beginning." 

"  Well,  now,"  said  Mr.  Bradford,  "  if  Aunt 
Patty  comes  to  us  by  and  by,  and  is  not  al- 
ways as  gentle  as  she  might  be,  will  my  little 
children  remember  how  much  she  has  had  to 
try  her,  and  how  much  there  is  in  her  which 
is  really  good  and  unselfish  ?  " 

The  boys  promised  readily  enough,  and  Bes- 
sie said  doubtfully  that  she  would  try,  but 
when  papa  turned  to  Maggie,  she  looked  as 
shy  and  frightened  as  if  Aunt  Patty  herself 
had  asked  the  question. 

"  What  is  my  rosebud  afraid  of  ?  "  said  Mr. 
Bradford. 

"  Papa,"  said  Maggie,  "  I'm  so  sorry  for  that 
pretty  lady,  but  I  can't  be  sorry  for  Aunt 
Patty,  —  and  oh,  papa,  I  —  I  —  do  wish  — 
Aunt  Patty  wasn't  "  —  and  poor  Maggie  broke 
down  in  a  desperate  fit  of  crying. 

Mr.  Bradford  feared  that  his  story  had  been 
almost  in  vain,  so  far  as  his  little  girls  were 


94  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

concerned,  and  indeed  it  was  so.  They  could 
not  make  the  pretty  lady  in  the  picture,  the 
poor  young  wife  whose  husband  and  father 
had  been  drowned  before  her  very  eyes,  or 
the  brave,  generous  woman  who  had  saved 
little  Aleck,  one  and  the  same  with  the 
dreaded  Aunt  Patty.  The  mischief  which 
words  had  done  words  could  not  so  easily 
undo. 


V. 


LIGHT   THROUGH    THE    CLOUDS. 


HRISTMAS  with  all  its  pleasures  had 
come  and  gone,  enjoyed  perhaps  as 
much  by  the  policeman's  children  as 
it  was  by  the  little  Bradfords  in  their  wealth- 
ier home.  For  though  the  former  had  not  the 
means  of  the  latter  with  which  to  make  merry, 
they  had  contented  spirits  and  grateful  hearts, 
and  these  go  far  to  make  people  happy.  Their 
tall  Christmas-tree  and  beautiful  greens  were 
not  more  splendid  in  the  eyes  of  Maggie  and 
Bessie  than  were  the  scanty  wreath  and  two 
foot  high  cedar  branch,  which  a  good-natured 
market-woman  had  given  Mrs.  Granby,  were 
in  those  of  little  Jennie  Richards.  To  be  sure, 
the  apology  for  a  tree  was  not  dressed  with 
glittering  balls,  rich  bonbons,  or  rows  of  tapers ; 


96  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

its  branches  bore  no  expensive  toys,  rare 
books,  or  lovely  pictures ;  but  the  owner  and 
the  little  ones  for  whose  delight  she  dressed  it, 
were  quite  satisfied,  and  only  pitied  those  who 
had  no  tree  at  all.  Had  not  good  Mrs.  Granby 
made  the  most  extraordinary  flowers  of  red 
flannel  and  gilt  paper,  —  flowers  whose  likeness 
never  grew  in  gardens  or  greenhouses  of  any 
known  land ;  had  she  not  baked  sugar  cakes 
which  were  intended  to  represent  men  and 
women,  pigs,  horses,  and  cows  ?  Were  not 
the  branches  looped  with  gay  ribbons  ?  Did 
they  not  bear  rosy-cheeked  apples,  an  orange 
for  each  child,  some  cheap  but  much  prized 
toys,  and,  better  than  all,  several  useful  and 
greatly  needed  articles,  which  had  been  the 
gift  of  Mrs.  Bradford  ?  What  did  it  matter  if 
one  could  scarcely  tell  the  pigs  from  the  men  ? 

Perhaps  you  may  like  to  know  how  Mrs. 
Bradford  became  interested  in  the  policeman's 
family. 

One  morning,  a  day  or  two  before  Christ- 
mas, Maggie   and  Bessie  were  playing  baby- 


Light  through  the  Clouds,  97 

house  in  their  own  little  room,  when  they 
heard  a  knock  at  mamma's  door.  Maggie  ran 
to  open  it.  There  stood  a  woman  who  looked 
rather  poor,  but  neat  and  respectable.  Mag- 
gie was  a  little  startled  by  the  unexpected 
sight  of  a  strange  face,  and  stood  holding  the 
door  without  speaking. 

"  Your  ma  sent  me  up  here,"  said  the 
woman.  "  She  is  busy  below,  and  she  told 
me  to  come  up  and  wait  for  her  here." 

So  Maggie  allowed  the  stranger  to  pass  her, 
and  she  took  a  chair  which  stood  near  the 
door.  Maggie  saw  that  she  looked  very  cold, 
but  had  not  the  courage  to  ask  her  to  come 
nearer  the  fire.  After  a  moment,  the  woman 
smiled  pleasantly.  Maggie  did  not  return  the 
smile,  though  she  looked  as  if  she  had  half 
a  mind  to  do  so ;  but  she  did  not  like  to  see 
the  woman  looking  so  uncomfortable,  and 
pushing  a  chair  close  to  the  fire,  she  said, 
"  There." 

The  woman  did  not  move  ;  perhaps  she,  too, 
felt  a  little   shy  in  a  strange  place.     Maggie 

7 


98  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

was  rather  vexed  that  she  did  not  understand 
her  without  more  words,  but  summing  up  all 
her  courage,  she  said,  — 

"  I  think  if  you  took  this  seat  by  the  fire, 
you'd  be  warmer. "  The  woman  thanked  her, 
and  took  the  chair,  looking  quite  pleased. 

"  Are  you  the  little  lady  who.  was  lost  a 
couple  of  months  ago  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  No,"  said  Maggie,  at  once  interested, 
"  that  was  our  Bessie ;  but  we  found  her 
again." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know  that.  I  heard  all  about 
her  from  Policeman  Richards,  who  looked  af- 
ter her  when  she  was  up  to  the  station." 

"  Bessie,  Bessie  !  "  called  Maggie,  "  here's 
a  woman  that  knows  your  station  policeman. 
Come  and  look  at  her." 

At  this,  Bessie  came  running  from  the  inner 
room. 

"  Well,"  said  the  woman,  laughing  heartily, 
"  it  is  nice  to  be  looked  at  for  the  sake  of  one's 
friends  when  one  is  not  much  to  look  at  for 
one's  self." 


Light  through  the   Clouds.  99 

"I  think  you're  pretty  much  to  look  at,'* 
said  Bessie.  "  I  think  you  have  a  nice,  pleas- 
ant face.     How  is  my  policeman  ?  " 

"  He's  well,"  said  the  stranger.  "  And  so 
you  call  him  your  policeman  ;  do  you  ?  Well, 
I  shall  just  tell  him  that ;  I've  a  notion  it  will 
tickle  him  a  bit." 

"  He's  one  of  my  policemen,"  said  Bessie. 
"I  have  three,  —  one  who  helps  us  over  the 
crossing  ;  the  one  who  found  me  when  I  came 
lost ;  and  the  one  who  was  so  good  to  me  in 
his  station-house." 

"  And  that  is  my  friend,  Sergeant  Richards. 
Well,  he's  a  mighty  nice  fellow." 

"  Yes,  he  is,"  said  Bessie,  "  and  I'd  like  to 
see  him  again.     Are  you  his  wife,  ma'am  ?  " 

"  Bless  you,  no !  "  said  the  woman  ;  u  I  ain 
nothing  but  Mrs.  Granby,  who  lives  in  his 
house.  Your  grandmother,  Mrs.  Stanton, 
sent  me  to  your  ma,  who,  she  said,  had  work 
to  give  me.  His  poor  wife,  she  can  scarce 
creep  about  the  room,  let  alone  walking 
this  far.     Not  but  that  she's  better  than  she 


iou  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

was  a  spell  back,  and  she'd  be  spryer  yet,  I 
think,  but  for  the  trouble  that's  weighin'  on 
her  all  the  time,  and  hinders  her  getting 
well." 

"  Does  she  have  a  great  deal  of  trouble  ?  " 
asked  Maggie,  who  by  this  time  felt  quite  so- 
ciable. 

u  Doesn't  she  though  !  "  answered  Mrs. 
Granby.  "  Trouble  enough  ;  and  she's  awful 
bad  herself  with  the  rheumatics,  and  a  sickly 
baby,  and  a  blind  boy,  and  debts  to  pay,  and 
that  scandal  of  a  doctor,  and  no  way  of  laying 
up  much ;  for  the  children  must  be  fed  and 
warmed,  bless  their  hearts !  and  a  police- 
sergeant's  pay  aint  no  great ;  yes,  yes,  honey, 
lots  of  trouble  and  no  help  for  it  as  I  see. 
Not  that  I  tell  them  so  ;  I  just  try  to  keep  up 
their  hearts." 

"  Why  don't  they  tell  Jesus  about  their 
troubles,  and  ask  him  to  help  them  ?  "  asked 
Bessie,  gently. 

"  So  they  do,"  answered  Mrs.  Granby  ;  "  but 
bo  hasn't  seen  best  to  send  them  help  yet.     I 


Light  through  the   Clouds.  101 

suppose  he'll  just  take  his  own  time  and  his 
own  way  to  do  it ;  at  least,  that's  what  Ser- 
geant Richards  says.  He'll  trust  the  Lord, 
aud  wait  on  him,  he  says ;  but  it's  sore  wait- 
ing sometimes.  Maybe  all  this  trouble  is  sent 
to  try  his  faith,  and  I  can  say  it  don't  fail  him, 
so  far  as  I  can  see.  But,  honey,  I  guess  you 
sometimes  pray  yourself;  so  to-night,  when 
you  go  to  bed,  do  you  say  a  bit  of  a  prayer  for 
your  friend,  Sergeant  Richards.  I  believe  a 
heap  in  the  prayers  of  the  young  and  innocent ; 
and  you  just  ask  the  Lord  to  help  him  out  oi 
this  trouble.  Maybe  he'll  hear  you  ;  any 
way,  it  wont  do  no  harm  ;  prayer  never  hur' 
nobody." 

"  Oh,  mamma !  "  exclaimed  Bessie,  as  he' 
mother  just  then  entered  the  room,  "  what  do 
you  think  ?  This  very  nice  woman  lives  with 
my  station  policeman,  who  was  so  kind  to  me, 
and  his  name  is  Yichards,  and  he  has  a  lame 
baby  and  a  sick  wife  and  a  blind  boy,  and  no 
doctor  to  pay,  and  the  children  must  be  fed, 
and  a  great  deal  of  trouble,  and  she  don't  get 


102  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

well  because  of  it,  and  he  does  have  trust  in 
the  Lord,  but  he  hasn't  helped  him  yet  —  " 

"  And  my  Bessie's  tongue  has  run  away 
with  her  ideas,"  said  mamma,  laughing. 
"  What  is  all  this  about,  little  one  ?  " 

"About  Bessie's  policeman,"  said  Maggie, 
almost  as  eagei  as  her  sister.  "Let  this 
woman  tell  you.     She  knows  him  very  well." 

"  I  beg  pardon,  ma'am,"  said  Mrs.  Granby. 
"  I  don't  know  but  it  was  my  tongue  ran  away 
with  me,  and  1  can't  say  it's  not  apt  to  do  so ; 
but  when  your  little  daughter  was  lost,  it  was 
my  friend,  Sergeant  Richards,  that  saw  to  her 
when  she  was  up  to  the  station,  and  he's 
talked  a  deal  about  her,  for  he  was  mighty 
taken  with  her." 

"  Bessie  told  me  how  kind  he  was  to  her," 
said  Mrs.  Bradford. 

"  Yes,  ma'am  ;  there  isn't  a  living  thing 
that  he  wouldn't  be  kind  to,  and  it  does  pass 
me  to  know  what  folks  like  him  are  so  afflicted 
for.  However,  it's  the  Lord's  work,  and  I've 
no  call  to  question  his  doings.     But  the  little 


Light  through  the  Clouds.         103 

ladies  were  just  asking  me  about  Sergeant 
Richards,  ma'am,  and  so  I  came  to  tell  them 
what  a  peck  of  troubles  he  was  in." 

"  What  are  they,  if  you  are  at  liberty  to 
speak  of  them  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Bradford. 
"  Any  one  who  has  been  kind  to  my  children 
has  a  special  claim  on  me." 

So  Mrs.  Granby  told  the  story,  not  at  all 
with  the  idea  of  asking  aid  for  her  friends,  — 
that  she  knew  the  good  policeman  and  his 
wife  would  not  like,  —  but,  as  she  afterwards 
told  them,  because  she  could  not  help  it. 
"  The  dear  lady  looked  so  sweet,  and  spoke  so 
sweet,  now  and  then  asking  a  question,  not 
prying  like,  but  as  if  she  took  a  real  interest, 
not  listening  as  if  it  were  a  duty  or  because 
she  was  ashamed  to  interrupt.  And  she 
wasn't  of  the  kind  to  tell  you  there  was  others 
worse  off  than  you,  or  that  your  troubles 
might  be  greater  than  they  were.  If  there's 
a  thing  that  aggravates  me,  it's  that,"  contin- 
ued Mrs.  Granby.  "  I  know  I  ought  to  be 
thankful,  and  so  I  mostly  am,  that  I  and  my 


104  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

friends  aint  no  worse  off  than  we  are,  and  ] 
know  it's  no  good  to  be  frettin'  and  worryin' 
about  your  trials,  and  settin'  yourself  against 
the  Lord's  will ;  but  I  do  say  if  I  fall  down 
and  break  my  arm,  there  aint  a  grain  of  com- 
fort in  hearin'  that  my  next-door  neighbor 
has  broken  both  his.  Quite  contrary ;  I  think 
mine  pains  worse  for  thinkin'  how  his  must 
hurt  him.  And  now  that  I  can't  do  the  fine 
work  I  used  to,  it  don't  make  it  no  easier  for 
me  to  get  my  livin'  to  have  it  said,  as  a  lady 
did  to  me  this  morning,  that  it  would  be  far 
worse  if  I  was  blind.  So  it  would,  I  don't 
gainsay  that,  but  it  don't  help  my  seeing,  to 
have  it  thrown  up  to  me  by  people  that  has 
the  full  use  of  their  eyes.  Mrs.  Bradford 
aint  none  of  that  sort,  though,  not  she ;  and 
the  children,  bless  their  hearts,  stood  listenin' 
with  all  their  ears,  and  I'd  scarce  done  when 
the  little  one  broke  out  with,  — 

"  '  Oh,  do  help  them  !  Mamma,  couldn't 
you  help  them  ? ' 

"But  I   could   see   the   mother  was   a  bit 


Light  through  the  Clouds.       *  105 

backward  about  offerin'  help,  thinkin',  I 
s'pose,  that  you  and  Mary  wasn't  used  to  char- 
ity, and  not  knowin'  how  you'd  take  it ;  so 
she  puts  it  on  the  plea  of  its  bein'  Christmas 
time." 

And  here  Mrs.  Granby  paused,  having  at 
last  talked  herself  out  of  breath. 

All  this  was  true.  Mrs.  Bradford  had  felt 
rather  delicate  about  offering  assistance  to  the 
policeman's  family,  not  knowing  but  that  it 
might  give  offence.  But  when  she  had  ar- 
ranged with  Mrs.  Granby  about  the  work,  she 
said,  — 

"  Since  your  friends  are  so  pressed  just  now, 
I  suppose  they  have  not  been  able  to  make 
much  preparation  for  Christmas." 

"  Precious  little,  ma'am,"  answered  Mrs. 
Granby  ;  "  for  Sergeant  Richards  don't  think 
it  right  to  spend  a  penny  he  can  help  when 
he's  owin'  others.  But  we  couldn't  let  the 
children  quite  forget  it  was  Christmas,  so  I'm 
just  goin'  to  make  them  a  few  cakes,  and  get 
up  some  small  trifles  that  will  please  them. 


106  *        Bessie  and  fyer  Friends. 

I'd  have  done  more,  only  this  last  week,  when 
I  hadn't  much  work,  I  was  fixin'  up  some  of 
the  children's  clothes,  for  Mrs.  Richards,  poor 
soul,  can't  set  a  stitch  with  her  cramped  fin- 
gers, and  there  was  a  good  deal  of  lettin'  out 
and  patchin'  to  be  done." 

"  And  how  are  the  children  off  for 
clothes  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Bradford. 

"  Pretty  tolerable,  the  boys,  ma'am,  for  I've 
just  made  Willie  a  suit  out  of  an  old  uniform 
of  his  father's,  and  the  little  ones'  clothes  get 
handed  down  from  one  to  another,  though 
they  don't  look  too  fine  neither.  But  Jennie, 
poor  child,  has  taken  a  start  to  grow  these 
last  few  months,  and  I  couldn't  fix  a  thing  for 
her  she  wore  last  winter.  So  she's  wearin' 
her  summer  calicoes  yet,  and  even  them  are 
very  short  as  to  the  skirts,  and  squeezed  as  to 
the  waists,  which  aint  good  for  a  growin' 
child." 

"  No,"  said  Mrs.  Bradford,  smiling.  "  I 
have  here  a  couple  of  merino  dresses  of  Mag- 
gie's, and  a  warm  sack,  which  she  has   out- 


Light  through  the  Clouds,  107 

grown.  They  are  too  good  to  give  to  any  one 
who  would  not  take  care  of  them,  and  I  laid 
them  aside  until  I  should  find  some  one  to 
whom  they  would  be  of  use.  Do  you  think 
Mrs.  Richards  would  be  hurt  if  I  offered  them 
to  her  ?  They  will  at  least  save  some 
stitches." 

"  Indeed,  ma'am,"  said  Mrs.  Granby,  her 
eyes  dancing,  "  you  needn't  be  afraid;  she'll 
be  only  too  glad  and  thankful,  and  it  was  only 
this  mornin'  she  was  frettin1  about  Jennie's 
dress.  She  aint  quite  as  cheery  as  her  hus- 
band, poor  soul ;  'taint  to  be  expected  she 
should  be,  and  she  always  had  a  pride  in  Jen- 
nie's looks,  but  there  didn't  seem  no  way  to 
get  a  new  thing  for  one  of  the  children  this 
winter." 

"  And  here  is  a  cap  of  Franky's,  and  some 
little  flannel  shirts,  which  I  will  roll  up  in  the 
bundle,"  said  Mrs.  Bradford.  "  They  may, 
also,  be  of  use." 

Away  rushed  Maggie  when  she  heard  this 
to  her  own  room,  coming  back  with  a  china 


108  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

dog  and  a  small  doll,  which  she  thrust  into 
Mrs.  Granby's  hands,  begging  her  to  take 
them  to  Jennie,  but  to  be  sure  not  to  give 
them  to  her  before  Christmas  morning. 

"  What  shall  we  do  for  the  blind  boy  ?  " 
asked  Bessie.  "  We  want  to  make  him 
happy." 

"  Perhaps  he  would  like  a  book,"  said 
mamma. 

"  But  he  couldn't  see  to  yead  it,  mamma." 

"  Oh,  I  dare  say  some  one  would  read  it  to 
him,"  said  Mrs.  Bradford.  "  Does  he  not  like 
that  ?  "  she  asked  of  Mrs.  Granby. 

"Yes,  ma'am.  His  mother  reads  to  him 
mostly  all  the  time  when  the  baby  is  quiet. 
It's  about  all  she  can  do,  and  it's  his  greatest 
pleasure,  dear  boy,  to  have  her  read  out  the 
books  he  and  Jennie  get  at  Sunday-school 
every  Sunday." 

"  Can  he  go  to  Sunday-school  when  he's 
blind  ?  "  asked  Maggie. 

"  Why,  yes,  honey.  Every  Sunday  mornm' 
there's  a  big  boy  that  goes  to  the  same  school 


Light  through  the  Clouds.         109 

stops  for  Willie  and  Jennie,  and  totes  them 
with  him  ;  and  if  their  father  or  me  can't  go 
to  church,  he  just  totes  them  back  after  ser- 
vice. And  when  Willie  comes  in  with  his 
libr'y  book  and  his  '  Child's  Paper '  and  Scrip- 
ture text,  he's  as  rich  as  a  king,  and  a  heap 
more  contented,  I  guess." 

While  Mrs.  Granby  was  talking,  Mrs.  Brad 
ford  was  looking  over  a  parcel  which  contained 
some  new  books,  and  now  she  gave  her  one  for 
blind  Willie's  Christmas  gift,  saying  she  hoped 
things  would  be  ordered  so  that  before  another 
Christmas  he  would  be  able  to  see. 

There  is  no  need  to  tell  Mrs.  Granby's  de- 
light, or  the  thanks  which  she  poured  out. 
If  Mrs.  Bradford  had  given  her  a  most  mag- 
nificent present  for  herself,  it  would  not  have 
pleased  her  half  so  much  as  did  these  trifles 
for  the  policeman's  children. 

That  evening,  after  the  little  ones  were  all 
in  bed,  Mrs.  Granby  told  Mr.  Richards  and 
his  wife  of  all  that  had  happened  at  Mrs. 
Bradford's. 


no  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

Mrs.  Richards  was  by  no  means  too  proud 
to  accept  the  lady's  kindness ;  so  pleased  was 
she  to  think  that  she  should  see  Jennie  warm 
and  neat  once  more  that  she  had  no  room  in 
her  heart  for  anything  but  gratitude. 

Mrs.  Granby  was  just  putting  away  the 
treasures  she  had  been  showing,  when  there 
came  a  rap  from  the  old-fashioned  knocker 
on  the  front-door. 

"  Sit  you  still,  Sergeant  Richards,"  she 
said.  "  I'm  on  my  feet,  and  I'll  just  open  the 
door."  Which  she  did,  and  saw  a  tall  gentle- 
man standing  there,  who  asked  if  Mr.  Rich- 
ards was  in.  "  He  is,  sir,"  she  answered,  and 
then  saying  to  herself,  "  I  hope  he's  got  spe- 
cial business  for  him  that  he'll  pay  him  well 
for,"  threw  open  the  door  of  the  sitting-room, 
and  asked  the  gentleman  in. 

But  the  police-sergeant  had  already  done 
the  "  special  business,"  for  which  the  gentle- 
man came  to  make  return.  Mr.  Richards 
knew  him  by  sight,  though  he  had  nevei- 
spoken  to  him. 


Light  through  the  Clouds.  in 

u  Mr.  Bradford,  I  believe,  sir  ?  "  he  said, 
coming  forward. 

"  You  know  me  then  ? "  said  the  gentle- 
man, 
t  "  Yes,  sir,"  answered  Richards,  placing  a 
chair  for  his  visitor.  im  You  see  I  know  many 
as  don't  know  me.  Gan  I  be  of  any  service 
to  you,  sir  ?  " 

"  I  came  to  have  a  talk  with  you,  if  you  are 
at  leisure,"  said  Mr.  Bradford.  "  Perhaps 
you  may  think  I  am  taking  a  liberty,  but  my 
wife  heard  to-day,  through  your  friend,  that 
you  were  in  some  trouble  with  a  doctor  who 
has  attended  your  family,  and  that  you  have 
been  disappointed  in  obtaining  the  services  of 
Mr.  Ray,  who  has  gone  to  Europe.  I  am  a 
lawyer,  you  know,  and  if  you  do  not  object  to 
consider  me  as  a  friend  in  his  place,  perhaps 
I  you  will  let  me  know  what  your  difficulties 
are,  and  I  may  be  able  to  help  you." 

The  policeman  looked  gratefully  into  the 
frank,  noble  face  before  him.  "  Thank  you, 
sir,"  he  said  ;    "  you  are  very  good,  and  this 


112  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

is  not  the  first  time  that  I  have  heard  of  your 
kindness  to  those  in  trouble.  It's  rather  a 
long  story,  that  of  our  difficulties,  but  if  it 
wont  tire  you,  I'll  be  thankful  to  tell  it." 

He  began  far  back,  telling  how  they  had 
done  well,  and  been  very  comfortable,  having 
even  a  little  laid  by,  until  about  a  year  since, 
when  Mrs.  Richards'  father  and  mother,  who 
lived  with  them,  had  died  within  a  month  of 
each  other. 

"And  I  couldn't  bear,  sir,"  he  said,  "  that 
the  old  folks  shouldn't  have  a  decent  burying. 
So  that  used  up  what  we  had  put  by  for  a 
rainy  day.  Maybe  I  was  foolish,  but  you  see 
they  were  Mary's  people,  and  we  had  feeling 
about  it.  But  sure  enough,  no  sooner  was 
the  money  gone  than  the  rainy  day  came,  and 
stormy  enough  it  has  been  ever  since." 

He  went  on,  telling  how  sickness  had  come, 
one  thing  following  another:  how  Dr.  Schwitz 
had  promised  that  his  charges  should  be  small, 
but  how  he  never  would  give  in  his  bill,  the 
policeman  and  his  wife  thinking  all  the  while 


Light  through  the  Clouds.  113 

tnat  it  was  kindness  which  kept  him  from  do- 
ing so  ;  how  it  had  taken  every  cent  of  his  sal- 
ary to  pay  the  other  expenses  of  illness,  and 
keep  the  family  barely  warmed  and  fed  ;  of 
the  disappointment  of  their  hopes  for  Willie 
for,  at  least,  some  time  to  come ;  and  finally 
of  the  terrible  bill  which  Dr.  Schwitz  had  sent 
through  revenge,  the  police-sergeant  thought, 
and  upon  the  prompt  payment  of  which  he 
was  now  insisting. 

"  He's  hard  on  me,  sir,  after  all  his  fair 
promises,"  said  Richards,  as  he  handed  Mr. 
Bradford  the  bill ;  u  and  you  see  he  has  me,  for 
I  made  no  agreement  with  him,  and  I  don't 
know  as  I  can  rightly  say  that  the  law  would 
not  allow  it  to  him  ;  so,  for  that  reason,  I  don't 
dare  to  dispute  it.  But  I  thought  Mr.  Ray 
might  be  able  to  make  some  arrangement 
with  him,  and  I  can't  pay  it  all  at  once,  nor 
this  long  time  yet,  that's  settled.  If  he  would 
wait,  I  might  clear  it  off  in  a  year  or  two 
though  how  then  we  are  to  get  bread  to  put 
into  the  children's  mouths  I  don't  see.  And 
8 


H4  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

there  is  the  rent  to  pay,  you  know.  We  have 
tucked  the  children  and  Mrs.  Granby  all  into 
one  room,  and  let  out  the  other  two  up-stairs  ; 
so  that's  a  little  help.  And  Mary  was  talking 
of  selling  that  mahogany  table  and  bookcase 
that  are  as  dear  to  her  as  if  they  were  gold, 
for  they  were  her  mother's ;  but  they  wont 
fetch  nothing  worth  speaking  of.  The  English 
colonel  that  came  after  your  little  daughter, 
when  she  was  up  at  the  station  that  day,  was 
so  good  as  to  hand  me  a  ten  dollar  bill,  and 
we  laid  that  by  for  a  beginning;  but  think 
what  a  drop  in  the  bucket  that  is,  and  it's  pre- 
cious little  that  we've  added  to  it.  I  don't 
see  my  way  out  of  this ;  that's  just  a  fact,  sir, 
and  my  only  hope  is  that  the  Lord  knows  all." 

"  You  say  Dr.  Schwitz  tried  to  bribe  you  by 
saying  he  would  send  in  no  bill,  if  you  al- 
lowed his  nephew  to  escape  ?  "  said  Mr.  Brad- 
ford. 

"  Yes,  sir,  and  I  suppose  I  might  use  that 
for  a  handle  against  him  ;  but  I  don't  like  to, 
for  I  can't  say  but  that  the  man  was  real  kind 


Light  through  the  Clouds,         115 

to  me  and  mine  before  that.  If  he  presses  me 
too  hard,  I  may  have  to  ;  but  I  can't  bear  to 
do  it." 

"  Will  you  put  the  matter  in  my  hands,  and 
let  me  see  this  Dr.  Schwitz  ? "  asked  Mr. 
Bradford. 

Richards  was  only  too  thankful,  and  after 
asking  a  little  more  about  blind  Willie,  the 
gentleman  took  his  leave. 

There  is  no  need  to  tell  what  he  said  to  Dr. 
Schwitz,  but  a  few  days  after  he  saw  the  po- 
lice-sergeant again,  and  gave  him  a  new  bill, 
which  was  just  half  as  much  as  the  former 
one,  with  the  promise  that  the  doctor  would 
wait  and  allow  Richards  to  pay  it  by  degrees, 
on  condition  that  it  was  done  within  the  year. 
This,  by  great  pinching  and  saving,  the  po- 
liceman thought  he  would  be  able  to  do.  The 
good  gentleman  did  not  tell  that  it  was  only 
by  paying  part  of  the  sum  himself  that  he'  had 
been  able  to  make  this  arrangement. 

"  I  don't  know  what  claim  I  have  upon  you 
for  such  kindness,  sir,"  said  Richards,  "  but  if 


n6  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

you  knew  what  a  load  you  have  taken  from 
nie,  I  am  sure  you  would  feel  repaid." 

"  I  am  repaid,  more  than  repaid,"  said  Mr. 
Bradford,  with  a  smile  ;  "  for  I  feel  that  I  am 
only  paying  a  debt." 

The  policeman  looked  surprised. 

"  You  were  very  kind  to  my  little  girl  when 
she  was  in  trouble,"  said  the  gentleman. 

"  Oh,  that,  sir  ?  Who  could  help  it  ?  And 
that  was  a  very  tiny  seed  to  bring  forth  such 
a  harvest  as  this." 

"  It  was  '  bread  cast  upon  the  waters/  " 
said  Mr.  Bradford,  "  and  to  those  who  give  in 
the  Lord's  name,  he  gives  again  '  good  meas- 
ure, pressed  down,  shaken  together,  and  run- 
ning over.'  " 

But  the  policeman  had  not  even  yet  gath- 
ered in  the  whole  of  his  harvest. 


VI. 

UNCLE  RUTHVEN. 

HRISTMAS  brought  no  Uncle  Ruth- 
ven,  but  Christmas  week  brought 
Miss  Elizabeth  Rush,  the  sweet  "  Aunt 
Bessie "  whom  all  the  children  loved  so 
dearly.  And  it  was  no  wonder  they  were 
fond  of  her,  for  she  was  almost  as  gentle  and 
patient  with  them  as  mamma  herself;  and, 
like  her  brother,  the  colonel,  had  a  most  won- 
derful gift  of  story-telling,  which  she  was  al- 
ways ready  to  put  in  use  for  them.  Maggie 
and  Bessie  were  more  than  ever  sure  that 
there  were  never  such  delightful  people  as 
their  own,  or  two  such  happy  children  as 
themselves. 

"  I  think  we're  the  completest  family  that 
ever  lived,"  said  Maggie,  looking  around  the 


ii 8  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

room  with  great  satisfaction,  one  evening 
when  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Rush  were  present. 

"  Yes,"  said  Bessie  ;  "  I  wonder  somebody 
don't  write  a  book  about  us." 

"And  call  it 'The  Happy  Family,'"  said 
Fred,  mischievously,  "  after  those  celebrated 
bears  and  dogs  and  cats  and  mice  who  live  to- 
gether in  the  most  peaceable  manner  so  long 
as  they  have  no  teeth  and  claws,  but  who 
immediately  fall  to  and  eat  one  another  up  as 
soon  as  these  are  allowed  to  grow." 

"  If  there  is  a  bear  among  us,  it  must 
be  yourself,  sir,"  said  the  colonel,  playfully 
pinching  Fred's  ear. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Fred,  rubbing  the 
ear;  "judging  from  your  claws,  I  should  say 
you  were  playing  that  character,  colonel ; 
while  I  shall  have  to  take  that  of  the  unlucky 
puppy  who  has  fallen  into  your  clutches." 

"  I  am  glad  you  understand  yourself  so 
well,  any  way,"  returned  Colonel  Rush,  drily. 

Fred  and  the  colonel  were  very  fond  of  jok- 
ing and  sparring  in  this  fashion,  but  Bessie  al- 


Uncle  Ruthven.  119 

ways  looked  very  sober  while  it  was  going  on  ; 
for  she  could  not  bear  anything  that  sounded 
like  disputing,  even  in  play  ;  and  perhaps  she 
was  about  right. 

But  all  this  had  put  a  new  idea  into  that 
busy  little  brain  of  Maggie's.  "  Bessie,"  she 
said,  the  next  morning,  "I  have  a  secret 
to  tell  you,  and  you  must  not  tell  any  one 
else." 

"  Not  mamma  ?  "  asked  Bessie. 

"  No,  we'll  tell  mamma  we  have  a  secret, 
and  we'll  let  her  know  by  and  by  ;  but  I  want 
her  to  be  very  much  surprised  as  well  as  the 
rest  of  the  people.  Bessie,  I'm  going  to 
write  a  book,  and  you  may  help  me,  if  you 
like." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Bessie.  "  And  what  will  it  be 
about,  Maggie  ?  " 

"  About  ourselves.     You  put  it  in  my  head 
to  do  it,  Bessie.     But  then  I  sha'n't  put  in  our 
real   names,  'cause   I   don't   want   people   to 
know  it  is  us.     I  made  up  a  name  last  night 
I  shall  call  my  people  the  Happys." 


120  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

"And  shall  you  call  the  book  '  The  Happy 
Family '  ?  "  asked  Bessie. 

"  No  ;  I  think  we  will  call  it  '  The  Complete 
Family,'  "  said  Maggie.  "  That  sounds  nicer 
and  more  booky  ;  don't  you  think  so  ?  " 

'  "  Yes,"  said  Bessie,  looking  at  her  sister 
with  great  admiration.  "  And  when  are  you 
going  to  begin  it  ?  " 

"  To-day,"  said  Maggie.  "  I'll  ask  mamma 
for  some  paper,  and  I'll  write  some  every  day 
till  it's  done  ;  and  then  I'll  ask  papa  to  take  it 
to  the  bookmaker ;  and  when  the  book  is 
made,  we'll  sell  it,  and  give  the  money  to  the 
poor.  I'll  tell  you  what,  Bessie,  if  Police- 
man Richards'  blind  boy  is  not  cured  by  then, 
we'll  give  it  to  him  to  pay  his  doctor." 

"  You  dear  Maggie  !  "  said  Bessie.  "  Will 
you  yite  a  piece  that  I  make  up  about  your- 
self?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Maggie  ;  "  I'll  see 
what  you  say.  I  wouldn't  like  people  to 
know  it  was  me." 

The  book  was  begun  that  very  day,  but  it 


Uncle  Ruthven.  121 

had  gone  little  farther  than  the  title  and  chap- 
ter first,  before  they  found  they  should  be 
obliged  to  take  mamma  into  the  secret  at 
once.  There  were  so  many  long  words  which 
they  wished  to  use,  but  which  they  did  not 
know  how  to  spell,  that  they  saw  they  would 
have  to  be  running  to  her  all  the  time.  To 
their  great  delight,  mamma  gave  Maggie  a 
new  copy-book  to  write  in,  and  they  began 
again.  As  this  was  a  stormy  day,  they  could 
not  go  out,  so  they  were  busy  a  long  while  over 
their  book.  When,  at  last,  Maggie's  fingers 
were  tired,  and  it  was  put  away,  it  contained 
this  satisfactory  beginning :  — 

"THE  COMPLETE  FAMILY. 

"A   TALE   OF   HISTORY. 

"  Chapter  I. 

w  Once  upon  a  time,  there  lived  a  family 
named  Happy ;  only  that  was  not  their  real 
name,  and  you  wish  you  had  known  them, 
and  they  are  alive  yet,  because  none  of  them 
have  died.     This  was  the  most  interesting  and 


122  Bessie  and  her  Friends* 

happiest  family  that  ever  lived.  And  God 
was  so  very  good  to  them  that  they  ought  to 
have  been  the  best  family  ;  but  they  were  not 
except  only  the  father  and  mother  ;  and  some- 
times they  were  naughty,  but  'most  always 
afterwards  they  repented,  so  God  forgave 
them. 

"  This  family  were  very  much  acquainted 
with  some  very  great  friends  of  theirs,  and 
the  colonel  was  very  brave,  and  his  leg  was 
cut  off;  but  now  he  is  going  to  get  a  new  leg, 
only  it  is  a  make  believe.', 

This  was  all  that  was  done  the  first  day  ; 
and  that  evening  a  very  wonderful  and  de- 
lightful thing  occurred,  which  Maggie  thought 
would  make  her  book  more  interesting  than 
ever. 

There  had  been  quite  a  family  party  at  din- 
ner, for  it  was  Aunt  Bessie's  birthday,  and 
the  colonel  and  Mrs.  Rush  were  always  con- 
sidered as  belonging  to  the  family  now.  Be- 
sides these,  there  were  grandmamma  and  Aunt 
Annie,  Grandpapa  Duncan,  Uncle  John,  and 


Uncle  Ruthven.  123 

Aunt  Helen,  all  assembled  to  do  honor  to 
Aunt  Bessie. 

Dinner  was  over,  and  all,  from  grandpapa  to 
baby,  were  gathered  in  the  parlor,  when  there 
came  a  quick,  hard  pull  at  the  door-bell. 
Two  moments  later,  the  parlor  door  was 
thrown  open,  and  there  stood  a  tall,  broad 
figure  in  a  great  fur  overcoat,  which,  as  well 
as  his  long,  curly  beard,  was  thickly  powdered 
with  snow.  At  the  first  glance,  he  looked, 
except  in  size,  not  unlike  the  figure  which  a 
few  weeks  since  had  crowned  their  Christmas- 
tree  ;  and  in  the  moment  of  astonished  silence 
which  followed,  Franky,  throwing  back  his 
head  and  clapping  his  hands,  shouted, "  Santy 
Caus,  Santy  Caus  !  " 

But  it  was  no  Santa  Claus,  and  in  spite  of 
the  muffling  furs  and  the  heavy  beard,  in 
spite  of  all  the  changes  which  ten  long  years 
of  absence  had  made,  the  mother's  heart,  and 
the  mother's  eye  knew  her  son,  and  rising, 
from  her  seat  with  a  low  cry  of  joy,  Mrs.  Stan- 
ton stretched  her  hands  towards  the  stranger, 


124  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

exclaiming,  "  My  boy  !  Ruthven,  my  boy  !  " 
and  the  next  moment  she  was  sobbing  in  his 
arms.  Then  his  sisters  were  clinging  about 
him,  and  afterwards  followed  such  a  kissing 
and  hand- shaking  ! 

It  was  an  evening  of  great  joy  and  excite- 
ment, and  although  it  was  long  past  the  usual 
time  when  Maggie  and  Bessie  went  to  bed, 
they  could  not  go  to  sleep.  At  another  time 
nurse  would  have  ordered  them  to  shut  their 
eyes  and  not  speak  another  word  ;  but  to- 
night she  seemed  to  think  it  quite  right  and 
natural  that  they  should  be  so  very  wide 
awake,  and  not  only  gave  them  an  extra 
amount  of  petting  and  kissing,  but  told  them 
stories  of  Uncle  Ruthven's  pranks  when  he 
was  a  boy,  and  of  his  wonderful  sayings  and 
doings,  till  mamma,  coming  up  and  finding 
this  going  on,  was  half  inclined  to  find  fault 
with  the  old  woman  herself.  Nurse  had  quite 
forgotten  that,  in  those  days,  she  told  Uncle 
Ruthven,  as  she  now  told  Fred,  that  he  was 
"  the  plague  of  her  life,"  and  that  he  "  worried 


%^it  ■-'mn 


Bessie's  Friends. 


p.  124. 


Uncle  Ruthven.  125 

her  heart  out."  Perhaps  she  did  not  really 
mean  it  with  the  one  more  than  with  the 
other. 

"  And  to  think  of  him,"  she  said,  wiping 
the  tears  of  joy  from  her  eyes,  — "  to  think  of 
him  asking  for  his  old  mammy  'most  before  he 
had  done  with  his  greetings  to  the  gentle- 
folks !  And  him  putting  his  arm  about  me 
and  giving  me  a  kiss  as  hearty  as  he  used 
when  he  was  a  boy ;  and  him  been  all  over 
the  world  seein'  all  sorts  of  sights  and  doiii's. 
The  Lord  bless  him  I  He's  got  just  the  same 
noble,  loving  heart,  if  he  has  got  all  that  hair 
about  his  face." 

Uncle  Ruthven's  tremendous  beard  was  a 
subject  of  great  astonishment  to  all  the  chil- 
dren. Fred  saucily  asked  him  if  he  had  come 
home  to  set  up  an  upholsterer's  shop,  know- 
ing he  could  himself  furnish  plenty  of  stuffing 
for  mattresses  and  sofas.  To  which  his  uncle 
replied  that  when  he  did  have  his  beard  cut, 
it  should  be  to  furnish  a  rope  to  bind  Fred's 
hands  and  feet  with. 


126  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

Maggie  was  very  eager  to  write  down  the 
account  of  Uncle  Ruthven's  home-coming  in 
her  history  of  "  The  Complete  Family,"  and  as 
mamma's  time  was  more  taken  up  than  usual 
just  now,  she  could  not  run  to  her  so  often  for 
help  in  her  spelling.  So  the  next  two  days 
a  few  mistakes  went  down,  and  the  story  ran 
after  this  fashion  :  — 

"  The  Happys  had  a  very  happy  thing  hap- 
pen to  them  witch  delited  them  very  much. 
They  had  a  travelling  uncle  who  came  home 
to  them  at  last ;  hut  he  staid  away  ten  years 
and  did  not  come  home  even  to  see  his  mother, 
and  I  think  he  ort  to  don't  you  ?  But  now 
he  is  come  and  has  brought  so  many  trunks 
and  boxes  with  such  lots  and  lots  of  things 
and  kurositys  in  them  that  he  is  'most  like  a 
Norz'  xlrk  only  better,  and  his  gret  coat  and 
cap  are  made  of  the  bears'  skins  he  shot  and 
he  tells  us  about  the  tigers  and  lions  and  I 
don't  like  it  and  Fred  and  Harry  do  and  Bes- 
sie don't  too.  And  he  is  so  nice  and  he 
brought  presents  for  every  boddy    and  nurse 


Uncle  Ruthven.   ■  127 

a  shawl  that  she's  going  to  keep  in  her  will  till 
she  dies  for  Harry's  wife,  and  he  has  not  any 
and  says  he  wont  because  Uncle  Ruthven  has 
no  wife.  That  is  all  to-day  my  fingers  are 
krampd." 

Strange  to  say,  Maggie  was  at  home  with  the 
new  uncle  much  sooner  than  Bessie,  Little 
Bessie  was  not  quite  sure  that  she  altogether 
approved  of  Uncle  Ruthven,  or  that  it  was 
quite  proper  for  this  stranger  to  come  walking 
into  the  house  and  up-stairs  at  all  hours  of  the 
day,  kissing  mamma,  teasing  nurse,  and  play 
ing  and  joking  with  the  children,  just  as  if  he 
had  been  at  home  there  all  his  life.  Neither 
would  she  romp  with  him  as  the  other  children 
did,  looking  gravely  on  from  some  quiet  cor- 
ner at  their  merry  frolics,  as  if  she  half-disap- 
proved of  it  all.  So  Uncle  Ruthven  nick- 
named her  the  "  Princess,"  and  always  called 
her  "  your  highness  "  and  "  your  grace,"  at 
which  Bessie  did  not  know  whether  to  be 
pleased  or  displeased.  She  even  looked  half- 
doubtfully  at   the  wonderful  stories  he  told, 


128  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

though  she  never  lost  a  chance  of  hearing  one 
Uncle  Ruthven  was  very  fond  of  children, 
though  he  was  not  much  accustomed  to  them, 
and  he  greatly  enjoyed  having  them  with  him, 
telling  Mrs.  Bradford  that  he  did  not  know 
which  he  liked  best,  —  Bessie  with  her  dain- 
ty, quiet,  ladylike  little  ways,  or  Maggie  with 
her  half-shy,  half-roguish  manner,  and  love  of 
fun  and  mischief.  Maggie  and  all  the  boys 
were  half  wild  about  him,  and  as  for  baby,  if 
she  could  have  spoken,  she  would  have  said 
that  never  was  there  such  an  uncle  for  jump- 
ing and  tossing.  The  moment  she  heard  his 
voice,  her  hands  and  feet  began  to  dance,  and 
took  no  rest  till  he  had  her  in  his  arms ; 
while  mamma  sometimes  feared  the  soft  little 
head  and  the  ceiling  might  come  to  too  close 
an  acquaintance. 

"  Princess,"  said  Mr.  Stanton,  one  evening, 
when  he  had  been  home  about  a  fortnight, 
catching  up  Bessie,  as  she  ran  past  him,  and 
seating  her  upon  the  table,  "  what  is  that 
name  your  highness  calls  me  ?  " 


Uncle  Ruthven.  129 

"  I  don't  call  you  anything  but  Uncle  Yutli- 
ven,"  answered  Bessie,  gravely. 

"  That  is  it,"  said  her  uncle.  "  What  be- 
comes of  all  your  r's  ?     Say  Ruthven." 

"  Er  —  er  —  er  —  Yuthven,"  said  Bessie, 
trying  very  hard  at  the  r. 

Mr.  Stanton  shook  his  head  and  laughed. 

"  I  can  talk  plainer  than  I  used  to,"  said 
Bessie.  "  I  used  to  call  Aunt  Bessie's  name 
very  crooked,  but  I  don't  now." 

"  What  did  you  use  to  call  it  ?  " 

"  I  used  to  say  Libasus  ;  but  now  I  can  say 
it  plain,  Lisabus" 

"  A  vast  improvement,  certainly,"  said  Mr. 
Stanton,  "  but  you  can't  manage  the  R's  yet, 
hey?  Well,  they  will  come  one  of  these  days, 
I  suppose." 

"  They'd  better,"  said  Fred,  who  was  hang- 
ing over  his  uncle's  shoulder,  "  or  it  will  be  a 
nice  thing  when  she  is  a  young  lady  for  her  to 
go  turning  all  her  R's  into  Y's.  People  will 
call  her  crooked-tongued  Miss  Bradford." 

"  You  don't  make  a  very  pleasant  prospect 


130  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

for  me  to  be  in,"  said  Bessie,  looking  from 
brother  to  uncle  with  grave  displeasure,  "  and 
if  a  little  boy  like  you,  Fred,  says  that  to  me 
when  I  am  a  big  lady,  I  shall  say,  '  My  dear, 
you  are  very  impertinent.'  " 

"  And  quite  right,  too,"  said  Uncle  Ruth- 
ven.  "  If  all  the  little  boys  do  not  treat  you 
with  proper  respect,  Princess,  just  bring  them 
to  me,  and  I  will  teach  them  good  maimers." 

Bessie  made  no  answer,  for  she  felt  rather 
angry,  and,  fearing  she  might  say  something 
naughty,  she  wisely  held  her  tongue ;  and 
slipping  from  her  uncle's  hold,  she  slid  to  his 
knee,  and  from  that  to  the  floor,  running 
away  to  Aunt  Bessie  for  refuge. 

After  the  children  had  gone  to  bed,  Uncle 
Ruthven  went  up  to  Mrs.  Bradford's  room, 
that  he  might  have  a  quiet  talk  with  this  his 
favorite  sister.  Mrs.  Bradford  was  rocking 
her  baby  to  sleep,  which  business  was  rather  a 
serious  one,  for  not  the  least  talking  or  mov- 
ing about  could  go  on  in  the  room  but  this 
very  young  lady  must  have   a   share  in   it. 


Uncle  Ruthven.  131 

The  long  lashes  were  just  drooping  upon  the 
round,  dimpled  cheek  when  Uncle  Ruthven's 
step  was  heard. 

"  Ah-oo-oo,"  said  the  little  wide-awake, 
starting  up  with  a  crow  of  welcome  to  the 
playfellow  she  liked  so  well. 

Mamma  laid  the  little  head  down  again, 
and  held  up  a  warning  finger  to  Uncle  Ruth- 
ven, who  stole  softly  to  a  corner,  where  he  was 
out  of  Miss  Baby's  sight  and  hearing,  to  wait 
till  she  should  be  fairly  off  to  dreamland. 
This  brought  him  near  the  door  of  Maggie's 
and  Bessie's  room,  where,  without  intending 
it,  he  heard  them  talking.  Not  hearing  his 
voice,  they  thought  he  had  gone  away  again, 
and  presently  Maggie  said  in  a  low  tone,  that 
she  might  not  rouse  baby,  "  Bessie,  have  you 
objections  to  Uncle  Ruthven?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Bessie,  slowly,  —  "yes, 
Maggie,  I  think  I  have.  I  try  not  to,  but 
I'm  'fraid  I  do  have  a  little  objections  to  him." 

"  But  why  ?  "  asked  Maggie.  UI  think  he 
is  lovely." 


132  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Bessie.  "  But,  Mag- 
gie, don't  you  think  lie  makes  pretty  inti- 
mate ?  " 

"  Why,  yes,"  said  Maggie  ;  "  hut  then  he's 
our  uncle,  you  know.  I  guess  he  has  a  right 
if  he  has  a  mind  to." 

"  But  he  makes  more  intimate  than  Uncle 
John,  and  we've  known  him  ever  so  long,  and 
Uncle  Yuthven  only  a  little  while.  Why, 
Maggie,  he  kisses  mamma  !  " 

"  Well,  he  is  her  own  brother,"  said  Mag- 
gie, "  and  Uncle  John  is  only  her  step-brother, 
—  no,  that's  not  it  —  her  brother-of-law  — 
that's  it." 

"  What  does  that  mean,  Maggie  ?  " 

"  It  means  when  somebody  goes  and  mar- 
ries your  sister.  If  somebody  married  me, 
he'd  be  your  brother-of-law." 

"  He  sha'n't !  "  said  Bessie,  quite  excited. 
"  lie's  a  horrid  old  thing,  and  he  sha'n't  do 
it!" 

"  Who  sha'n't  do  what  ? "  asked  Maggie, 
rather  puzzled. 


Uncle  Rtithven.  133 

"  That  person,  that  brother-of-law ;  he 
6ha'n't  marry  you ;  you  are  my  own  Mag- 
gie." 

"  Well,  he  needn't  if  you  don't  want  him 
to,"  said  Maggie,  quite  as  well  contented  to 
settle  it  one  way  as  the  other.  "  And  you 
needn't  feel  so  bad,  and  sit  up  in  bed  about  it, 
Bessie,  'cause  you'll  take  cold,  and  mamma 
forbid  it." 

"  So  she  did,"  said  Bessie,  lying  down  again 
with  a  sigh.  "  Maggie,  I'm  'fraid  I'm  naughty 
to-night.  I  forgot  what  mamma  told  me,  and. 
I  was  naughty  to  Uncle  Yuthven." 

"  What  did  you  say  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  say  anything,  but  I  felt  very  pas- 
sionate, and  I  thought  naughty  things,  —  how 
I'd  like  to  give  him  a  good  slap  when  he 
teased  me,  and,  Maggie,  for  a  moment  I  'most 
thought  I  wisiied  he  did  not  come  home.  I 
am  going  to  tell  him  I'm  sorry,  the  next  time 
he  comes." 

"  I  wouldn't,"  said  Maggie,  who  was  never 
as   ready  as    Bessie  to  acknowledge  that  she 


134  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

had  been  wrong ;  "  not  if  I  didn't  do  or  say 
anything." 

"  I  would,"  said  Bessie.  "  It  is  naughty  to 
feel  so;  and  you  know  there's  no  'scuse  for 
me  to  be  passionate  like  there  was  for  Aunt 
Patty,  'cause  my  people  are  so  very  wise,  and 
teach  me  better.  And  it  grieves  Jesus  when 
we  feel  naughty,  and  he  saw  my  naughty  heart 
to-night." 

"  Then  ask  him  to  forgive  you,"  said  Mag- 
gie.. 

"  So  I  did ;  but  I  think  he'll  know  I  want 
to  be  better  if  I  ask  Uncle  Yuthven  too." 

"  Well,"  said  Maggie,  "  maybe  he  will. 
But,  Bessie,  why  do  you  speak  about  yourself 
as  if  you  are  like  Aunt  Patty.  You're  not  a 
bit  like  her." 

"  But  I  might  be,  if  I  wasn't  teached  bet- 
ter," said  Bessie,  "  and  if  Jesus  didn't  help 
me.  Poor  Aunt  Patty  !  Papa  said  she  was 
to  be  pitied." 

"  I  sha'n't  pity  her,  I  know,"  said  Maggie. 

"  But,  Maggie,  mamma   said  we  ought  to 


Uncle  Ruthven.  135 

try  and  feel  kind  to  her,  and  to  be  patient  and 
good  to  her  when  she  came  here,  'cause  she's 
getting  very  old,  and  there's  nobody  to  love 
her,  or  take  care  of  her.  I  am  'fraid  of  her, 
but  I  am  sorry  for  her." 

"  If  she  has  nobody  to  take  care  of  her,  let 
her  go  to  the  Orphan  Asylum,"  said  Maggie. 
■  "  I  just  hope  papa  will  send  her  there,  'cause 
we  don't  want  to  be  bothered  with  her." 

"  And  don't  you  feel  a  bit  sorry  for  her, 
Maggie  ? " 

"  No,  not  a  bit ;  and  I'm  not  going  to,  ei- 
ther. She  is  quite  a  disgrace  to  herself,  and 
so  she'd  better  stay  at  her  house  up  in  the 
mountains." 

Maggie,  in  her  turn,  was  growing  quite  ex- 
cited, as  she  always  did  when  she  talked  or 
thought  of  Aunt  Patty.  It  was  some  time 
since  the  children  had  done  either,  for  Christ- 
mas, Aunt  Bessie,  and  Uncle  Ruthven  had 
given  them  so  much  else  to  think  about,  that 
they  had  almost  forgotten  there  was  such  a 
person. 


136  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

And  now  mamma,  who  had  laid  baby  in 
her  cradle,  coming  in  to  stop  the  talking,  was 
sorry  to  hear  her  little  girls  speaking  on  the 
old,  disagreeable  subject.  She  told  them  they 
must  be  still,  and  go  to  sleep.  The  first  com- 
mand was  obeyed  at  once,  but  Maggie  did  not 
find  the  second  quite  so  easy  ;  and  she  lay 
awake  for  some  time  imagining  all  kinds  of 
possible  and  impossible  quarrels  with  Aunt 
Patty,  and  inventing  a  chapter  about  her  for 
"  The  Complete  Family." 

While  little  Maggie  was  thinking  thus  of 
Aunt  Patty,  the  old  lady,  in  her  far-away 
home,  was  wondering  how  she  might  best  con 
trive  to  gain  the  hearts  of  her  young  nieces 
and  nephews,  for  she  was  not  the  same  woman 
she  had  been  four  years  ago.  During  the  last 
few  months  a  new  knowledge  and  a  new  life 
had  come  to  her,  making  her  wish  to  live  in 
peace  and  love  with  every  one.  But  she  did 
not  know  how  to  set  about  this  ;  for  the  poor 
lady  had  grown  old  in  the  indulgence  of  a 
bad  temper,  a  proud  spirit,  and  a  habit  of  de- 


Uncle  Ruthven.  137 

siring  to  rule  all  about  her ;  and  now  it  was 
not  easy  to  change  all  this.  She  had  humbled 
herself  at  the  feet  of  her  Lord  and  Saviour, 
but  it  was  hard  work  to  do  it  before  her  fel- 
low-men. She  could  not  quite  resolve  to  say 
to  those  whom  she  had  grieved  and  offended 
by  her  violence  and  self-will,  "  I  have  done 
wrong,  but  now  I  see  my  sin,  and  wish,  with 
God's  help,  to  lead  a  new  life." 

Still,  she  longed  for  the  love  and  friendship 
she  had  once  cast  from  her,  and  her  lonely 
heart  craved  for  some  care  and  affection. 
She  well  knew  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bradford 
would  be  only  too  ready  to  forgive  and  forget 
all  that  was  disagreeable  in  the  past,  and  she 
also  felt  that  they  would  do  nothing  to  preju- 
dice the  minds  of  their  children  against  her. 
She  thought  she  would  go  to  them,  and  try  to 
be  gentle  and  loving,  and  so  perhaps  she 
should  win  back  their  hearts,  and  gain  those 
of  their  little  ones.  But  old  habit  and  the  old 
pride  were  still  strong  within  her,  and  so, 
when  she  wrote  to  Mr.  Bradford  to  sav  she 


138  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

was  corning  to  make  them  a  visit,  she  gave  no 
sign  that  she  was  sorry  for  the  past,  and 
would  like  to  make  amends. 

But  shortly  before  the  time  she  had  fixed 
for  the  visit,  something  happened  which 
caused  her  to  change  her  purpose,  and  she 
chose  to  say  nothing  of  her  reasons  for  this, 
only  sending  word  that  she  could  not  come 
before  spring,  perhaps  not  then.  Now,  again 
she  had  altered  her  plans,  and  this  time  she 
chose  to  take  them  all  by  surprise,  and  to  go 
to  Mr.  Bradford's  without  warning. 

"  Margaret,"  said  Mr.  Stanton  softly,  as  his 
sister  came  from  the  bedside  of  her  little  girls, 
and  they  went  to  the  other  side  of  the  room, 
"  what  a  sensitive  conscience  your  darling  lit- 
tle Bessie  has  !  It  seems  I  vexed  her  to-night, 
though  I  had  no  thought  of  doing  so.  I  saw 
she  was  displeased,  but  the  feeling  seemed  to 
pass  in  a  moment.  Now  I  find  that  she  is  so 
penitent  for  indulging  in  even  a  wrong  feeling 
that  she  cannot  rest  satisfied  without  asking 
pardon,  not  only  of  her  heavenly  Father,  but 


Uncle  Ruthven.  139 

also  of  me."  And  he  told  Mrs.  Bradford  of 
all  be  had  heard  the  children  say,  with  some 
amusement,  as  he  repeated  the  conversation 
about  himself. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Bradford,  "  my  dear  little 
Bessie's  quick  temper  gives  her  some  trouble. 
I  am  often  touched  to  see  her  silent  struggles 
with  herself  when  something  tries  it,  how  she 
forces  back  each  angry  word  and  look,  and 
faithfully  asks  for  the  help  which  she  knows 
will  never  fail  her.  But  with  that  tender 
conscience,  and  her  simple  trust  in  Him  who 
has  redeemed  her,  I  believe  all  the  strength 
she  needs  will  be  granted.  God  only  knows 
how  thankful  I  am  that  he  has  thus  early  led 
my  precious  child  to  see  the  sin  and  evil  of 
a  passionate  and  unchecked  temper,  and  so 
spared  her  and  hers  the  misery  which  I  have 
seen  it  cause  to  others." 

Uncle  Ruthven  came  in  the  next  morning, 
and,  as  usual,  "  making  intimate,"  ran  up  to 
mamma's  room.  She  was  not  there ;  but 
Maggie  and    Bessie   were3  busy  over   "  The 


140  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

Complete  Family."  But  Maggie  did  not  look  at 
all  as  if  she  belonged  to  the  Happys  just  then. 
She  had  composed,  what  she  thought,  a  very 
interesting  chapter  about  Aunt  Patty,  and 
commenced  it  in  this  way :  "  There  came  to 
the  Happys  a  very  great  aflekshun."  But 
when  she  had  written  this  last  word,  she  had 
her  doubts  about  the  spelling,  and  carried  the 
book  to  mamma  to  see  if  it  were  right.  Mam- 
ma inquired  what  the  affliction  was,  and  find- 
ing, as  she  supposed,  that  it  was  Aunt  Patty, 
she  told  Maggie  she  did  not  wish  her  to  write 
about  her.  Maggie  was  very  much  disap- 
pointed, and  even  pouted  a  little,  and  she  had 
not  quite  recovered  when  her  uncle  came  in. 
In  his  hand  he  carried  a  little  basket  of 
flowers,  which  the  children  supposed  was  for 
mamma,  and  which  lie  stood  upon  the  tabic 
Bessie  loved  flowers  dearly,  and  in  a  moment 
she  was  hanging  over  them,  and  enjoying 
their  sweetness. 

Uncle    Ruthven    asked    what    they    were 
about,  and  to  Bessie's  surprise,  Maggie  took 


Uncle  Ruthven.  141 

him  at  once  into  the  secret,  telling  him  all 
about  "  The  Complete  Family  "  and  her  pres- 
ent trouble.  Uncle  Ruthven  quite  agreed 
with  mamma  that  it  was  not  wisest  and  best 
to  write  anything  unkind  of  Aunt  Patty,  and 
told  Maggie  of  some  very  pleasant  things  she 
might  relate,  so  that  presently  she  was  smiling 
and  good-natured  again. 

Then  Mr.  Stanton  took  Bessie  up  in  his 
arms.  "  Bessie,"  he  said,  "  did  I  vex  you  a 
little  last  night  ?" 

Bessie  colored  all  over,  but  looking  her 
uncle  steadily  in  the  eyes,  answered,  "  Yes, 
sir ;  and  I  am  sorry  I  felt  so  naughty." 

"  Nay,"  said  Uncle  Ruthven,  smiling,  "  if  I 
teased  you,  although  I  did  not  intend  it,  I  am 
the  one  to  beg  pardon." 

"  But  I  was  pretty  mad,  uncle,  and  I  felt  as 
if  I  wanted  to  be  naughty.  I  think  I  ought  to 
be  sorry." 

"As  you  please  then,  darling;  we  will 
forgive  one  another.  And  now  would  you 
like    this    little    peace-offering     from    Uncle 


142  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

Ruth ven  ? "  and  he  took  up  the  basket  of 
flowers. 

u  Is  that  for  me  ?"  asked  Bessie,  her  eyes 
sparkling. 

"  Yes.  I  thought  perhaps  I  had  hurt  your 
feelings  last  night,  and  so  I  brought  it  to  you 
that  you  might  see  /was  sorry." 

"  But  I  could  believe  you  without  that." 

Bessie  felt  reproached  that  she  had  told 
Maggie  she  had  "  objections  to  Uncle  Ruth- 
ven,"  and  now  she  felt  as  if  they  had  all 
flown  away. 

"  Perhaps  you  could,"  said  Uncle  Ruthven, 
smiling  as  he  kissed  her ;  "  but  the  flowers 
are  your  own  to  do  with  as  you  please.  And 
now  you  must  remember  that  I  am  not  much 
accustomed  to  liftle  girls,  and  do  not  always 
know  what  they  like  and  what  they  do  not 
like  ;  so  you  must  take  pity  on  the  poor  trav- 
eller, if  he  makes  a  mistake  now  and  then, 
and  believe  he  always  wishes  to  please  you 
and  make  you  love  him  as  far  as  he  knows 
how." 


VII. 


AN  UNEXPECTED    VISITOR. 


NCLE  RUTHVEN  had  brought  home 
with  him  two  servants,  the  elder  of 
whom  was  a  Swede,  and  did  not  inter- 
est the  children  much,  being,  as  Maggie  said, 
such  a  "  very  broken  Englishman  "  that  they 
could  scarcely  understand  him.  But  the 
other  was  a  little  Persian  boy  about  twelve 
years  old,  whom  a  sad,  or  rather  a  happy  ac- 
cident, had  thrown  into  Mr.  Stanton's  hands. 
Riding  one  day  through  the  streets  of  a  Per- 
sian town,  as  he  turned  a  corner,  this  boy  ran 
'beneath  his  horse's  feet,  was  thrown  down  and 
badly  hurt.  Mr.  Stanton  took  him  up  and 
had  him  kindly  cared  for,  and  finding  that  the 
boy  was  an  orphan,  with  no  one  to  love  him, 
he  went  often  to  see  him,  and  soon   became 


144  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

much  interested  in  the  grateful,  affectionate 
little  fellow  ;  while  Hafed  learned  to  love 
dearly  the  only  face  which  looked  kindly  upon 
him.  When  the  time  came  for  Mr.  Stanton 
to  go  away,  Hafed's  grief  was  terrible  to  see, 
and  he  clung  so  to  this  new  friend,  that  the 
gentleman  could  not  find  it  in  his  heart  to 
leave  him.  It  was  not  difficult  to  persuade 
those  who  had  the  care  of  him  to  give  him 
up ;  they  were  only  too  glad  to  be  rid  of  the 
charge.  So,  at  some  trouble  to  himself,  Mr. 
Stanton  had  brought  him  away.  But  if  he 
needed  payment,  he  found  it  in  Hafed's  happy 
face  and  tireless  devotion  to  himself.  He  was 
less  of  a  servant  than  a  pet ;  but  his  master 
did  not  mean  him  to  grow  up  in  idleness  and 
ignorance,  and  as  soon  as  he  knew  a  little 
English,  he  was  to  go  to  school  to  learn  to 
read  and  write ;  but  at  present  he  was  al- 
lowed time  to  become  accustomed  to  his  new 
home. 

The  children  thought  him  a  great  curiosity, 
partly  because  of  his  foreign  dress,  and  that 


An    Unexpected    Visitor.  145 

he  had  come  from  such  a  far-off  country ; 
partly  because  he  could  speak  only  half  a 
dozen  English  words. 

Hafed  took  a  great  fancy  to  the  little  girls, 
and  was  never  happier  than  when  his  master 
took  him  to  Mr.  Bradford's  house,  and  left 
him  to  play  with  them  for  a  while.  Maggie 
and  Bessie  liked  him  also,  and  they  immedi- 
ately set  about  teaching  him  English.  As  yet, 
he  knew  only  four  or  five  words,  one  of  which 
was  "  Missy,"  by  which  name  he  called  every 
one  who  wore  skirts,  not  excepting  Franky, 
who  considered  it  a  great  insult.  Maggie  was 
very  eager  to  have  him  learn  new  words,  and 
was  constantly  showing  him  something  and 
repeating  the  name  over  and  over  till  he  could 
say  it.  But  though  he  took  great  pains,  and 
was  an  apt  scholar,  he  did  not  learn  fast 
enough  to  satisfy  Maggie. 

"  Hafed,"  she  said  to  him  one  day,  holding 
up  her  doll,  "  say  '  doll.'  " 

"  Dole"  repeated  Hafed,  in  his  soft,  musi- 
cal tones. 
10 


146  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

"  Doll,"  said  Maggie,  not  at  all  satisfied 
with  his  pronunciation,  and  speaking  in  a 
louder  voice,  as  if  Hafed  could  understand 
the  better  for  that. 

"  Dole,"  said  Hafed  again,  with  a  contented 
smile. 

"  D-o-o-11,"  shrieked  Maggie,  in  the  ear  of 
her  patient  pupil,  with  no  better  success  on 
his  part. 

Miss  Rush  was  sitting  by,  and  she  called 
Maggie  to  her.  "  Maggie,  dear,"  she  said, 
"  you  must  not  be  impatient  with  Hafed.  I 
am  sure  he  tries  his  best ;  but  you  must  re- 
member it  is  hard  work  for  that  little  foreign 
tongue  of  his  to  twist  itself  to  our  English 
words.  He  will  learn  to  pronounce  them  in 
time." 

"  But,  Aunt  Bessie,"  said  Maggie,  "  mam- 
ma said  it  was  always  best  to  learn  to  do  a 
thing  well  at  first,  and  then  one  will  not  have 
to  break  one's  self  of  bad  habits." 

"  And  so  it  is,  dear  ;  but  then  we  cannot 
always    do    that    at   once.       When    mamma 


An   Unexpected    Visitor.  147 

teaches  you  French,  you  cannot  always  pro- 
nounce the  words  as  she  does  ;  can  you  ?  " 

"  Noj  ma'am ;  but  those  are  hard  French 
words,  and  we  are  trying  to  teach  Hafed  Eng- 
lish, and  that  is  so  easy." 

"  Easy  to  you,  dear,  who  are  accustomed  tc 
it,  but  not  to  him.  It  is  even  harder  for  him 
to  frame  the  English  words  than  it  is  for  you 
to  repeat  the  French  ;  and  you  should  be  gen- 
tle and  patient  with  him,  as  mamma  is  with 

you." 

The  little  Persian  felt  the  cold  very  much, 
and  delighted  to  hang  about  the  fires  and  reg- 
isters. He  had  a  way  of  going  down  on  his 
knees  before  the  fire,  and  holding  up  both 
hands  with  the  palms  towards  the  blaze.  The 
first  time  nurse  saw  him  do  this,  she  was 
quite  shocked. 

"  The  poor  little  heathen,"  she  said.  "  Well, 
I've  often  heard  of  them  fire-worshippers,  but 
I  never  expected  to  see  one,  at  least,  in  this 
house.  I  shall  just  make  so  bold  as  to  tell 
Mr.  Ruthven  he  ought  to  teach  him  better." 


148  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

But  Hafed  was  no  fire-worshipper,  for  he 
had  been  taught  better,  and  thanks  to  his  kind 
master,  did  not  bow  down  to  that  or  any  other 
false  god.  It  was  only  his  delight  in  the  roar- 
ing blaze  which  had  brought  him  down  in 
front  of  it,  not,  as  nurse  thought,  the  wish  to 
pray  to  it. 

"  Let's  teach  him  about  Jesus,"  said  Bessie 
to  her  sister.  "  First,  we'll  teach  him  to  say 
it,  and  then  he'll  want  to  know  who  he  is." 

So  kneeling  down  beside  the  little  stranger, 
she  took  his  hand  in  hers,  and  pointing  up- 
wards said,  "  Jesus." 

The  boy's  face  lighted  up  immediately,  and 
to  Bessie's  great  delight,  he  repeated  Jesus  in 
a  tone  so  clear  and  distinct  as  to  show  it  was 
no  new  word  to  him.  He  had  a  pretty  way 
when  he  wished  to  say  he  loved  a  person,  of 
touching  his  fingers  to  his  lips,  laying  them 
on  his  own  heart,  and  then  on  that  of  the  one 
for  whom  he  wished  to  express  his  affection. 
Now,  at  the  sound  of  the  name,  which  he,  as 
well  as  Bessie,  had  learned  to  love,  he  tried,  by 


An   Unexpected   Visitor,  149 

a  change  in  the  pretty  sign,  to  express  his 
meaning.  Touching  first  Bessie's  lips  and 
then  her  heart  with  the  tips  of  his  fingers,  he 
softly  blew  upon  them,  as  if  he  wished  to  waft 
to  heaven  the  love  he  could  not  utter  in 
words,  saying,  "  Missy  — Jesus  ?  " 

Bessie  understood  him.  She  knew  he 
wished  to  ask  if  she  loved  Jesus,  and  with  a 
sunny  face,  she  answered  him  with  a  nod,  ask- 
ing, in  her  turn,  "Do  you,  Hafed,  —  do  you 
love  Jesus  ?  " 

The  boy  went  through  the  same  sign  with 
his  own  heart  and  lips,  saying,  "  Hafed  —  Je- 
sus," and  Bessie  turned  joyfully  to  her  sister. 

"  He  knows  him,  Maggie.  We  wont  have 
to  teach  him  ;  he  knows  our  Jesus,  and  he 
loves  him  too.     Oh,  I'm  so  glad  !  " 

"  Now  the  Good  Shepherd,  that  has  called 
ye  to  be  his  lambs,  bless  you  both,"  said  old 
nurse,  with  the  tears  starting  to  her  eyes. 
"  That's  as  cheering  a  sight  as  I  want  to  see  ; 
and  there  was  me  a  misjudging  of  my  boy.  I 
might  have  known  him  better  than  to  think 


150         Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

he'd  let  one  as  belonged  to  him  go  on  in  dark- 
ness and  heathendom." 

Nurse  always  called  Mr.  Stanton  her  "boy" 
when  she  was  particularly  pleased  with  him. 

From  this  time  Hafed  was  almost  as  great  a 
favorite  with  nurse  as  he  was  with  the  chil- 
dren, and  seeing  how  gentle  and  thoughtful 
he  was,  she  would  even  sometimes  leave  them 
for  a  few  moments  in  his  care. 

One  morning  mamma  and  Aunt  Bessie  were 
out,  and  Jane,  who  was  sick,  had  gone  to  bed. 
Hafed  was  in  the  nursery  playing  with  the 
children,  when  the  chamber-maid  came  in  to 
ask  nurse  to  go  to  Jane.  Nurse  hesitated  at 
first  about  leaving  her  charge,  but  they  all 
said  they  would  be  good,  and  Hafed  should 
take  care  of  them.  Nurse  knew  that  this  was 
a  safe  promise  from  Maggie  and  Bessie,  but 
she  feared  that,  with  every  intention  of  being 
good,  mischievous  Franky  would  have  him- 
self or  the  others  in  trouble  if  she  stayed  away 
five  minutes. 

"  See  here,"  she  said,  "  I'll  put  ye  all  into 


An   Unexpected   Visitor.  151 

the  crib,  and  there  ye  may  play  omnibus  till  I 
come  back.  That  will  keep  ye  out  of  harm's 
way,  Franky,  my  man,  for  if  there's  a  chance 
for  you  to  get  into  mischief,  ye'll  find  it." 

This  was  a  great  treat,  for  playing  in  the 
cribs  and  beds  was  not  allowed  without  special 
permission,  and  Franky,  being  provided  with 
a  pair  of  reins,  and  a  chair  turned  upside 
down  for  a  horse,  took  his, post  as  driver,  in 
great  glee ;  while  the  three  little  girls  were 
packed  in  as  passengers,  Maggie  holding  the 
baby.  Hafed  was  rather  too  large  for  the 
crib,  so  he  remained  outside,  though  he,  too, 
enjoyed  the  fun,  even  if  he  did  not  quite  un- 
derstand all  it  meant.  Then,  having  with 
many  pointings  and  shakings  of  her  head 
made  Hafed  understand  that  he  was  not  to  go 
near  the  fire  or  windows,  or  to  let  the  children 
fall  out  of  the  crib,  mammy  departed. 

They  were  all  playing  and  singing  as  happy 
as  birds,  when  the  nursery-door  opened,  and 
a  stranger  stood  before  them.  In  a  moment 
every  voice  was  mute,  and  all  five  children 


152  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

looked  at  her  in  utter  astonishment.  She  was 
an  old  lady,  with  hair  as  white  as  snow,  tall 
and  handsome ;  but  there  was  something 
about  her  which  made  every  one  of  the  little 
ones  feel  rather  shy.  They  gazed  at  her  in 
silence  while  she  looked  from  one  to  another 
of  them,  and  then  about  the  room,  as  if  those 
grave,  stern  eyes  were  taking  notice  of  the 
smallest  thing  there. 

"  Well !  "  exclaimed  the  old  lady,  after  a 
moment's  pause,  "  this  is  a  pretty  thing !  " 

By  this  time  Bessie's  politeness  had  gained 
the  better  of  her  astonishment,  and  scram- 
bling to  her  feet,  she  stood  upright  in  the 
crib.  As  the  stranger's  eyes  were  fixed  upon 
Hafed  as  she  spoke,  the  little  girl  supposed 
the  "  pretty  thing "  meant  the  dress  of 
the  young  Persian,  which  the  children 
thought  very  elegant ;  and  she  answered, 
"  Yes,  ma'am,  but  he  is  not  to  wear  it 
much  longer,  'cause  the  boys  yun  after  him 
in  the  street,  so  Uncle  Yuthven  is  having 
some  English  clothes  made  for  him." 


An    Un ejected   Visitor.  153 

"  Where  is  your  mother  ?  "  asked  the  old 
lady,  without  other  notice  of  Bessie's  speech. 

"  Gone  out  with  Aunt  Bessie,  ma'am." 

"  And  is  there  nobody  left  to  take  care  of 
you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  ma'am,"  answered  Bessie.  "  Mag- 
gie and  I  are  taking  care  of  the  children,  and 
Hafed  is  taking  care  of  us." 

"  Humph  !  "  said  the  old  lady,  as  if  she  did 
not  think  this  at  all  a  proper  arrangement. 
"  I  shall  give  Margaret  a  piece  of  my  mind 
about  this." 

Bessie  now  opened  her  eyes  very  wide. 
"  Papa  don't  allow  it,"  she  said,  gravely. 

"  Don't  allow  what  ?  "  asked  the  stranger, 
rather  sharply. 

"  Don't  allow  mamma  to  be  scolded." 

"  And  who  said  I  was  going  to  scold  her  ?  " 

"  You  said  you  were  going  to  give  her  a 
piece  of  your  mind,  and  pieces  of  mind  mean 
scoldings,  and  we  never  have  mamma  scolded, 
'cause  she  never  deserves  it." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  the  old  lady,  with  a  half-smile, 
"  then  she  is  better  than  most  people." 


154  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  answered  Bessie,  inno 
cently,  "  she  is  better  than  anybody,  and 
so  is  papa." 

"  Just  as  well  you  should  think  so,"  said 
the  lady,  now  smiling  outright.  "  And  you 
are  Maggie  —  no  —  Bessie,  I  suppose." 

"  Yes,  ma'am.  I  am  Bessie,  and  this  is 
Maggie,  and  this  is  baby,  and  this  is  Franky, 
and  this  is  Hafed,"  said  the  child,  pointing  in 
turn  to  each  of  her  playmates. 

"  And  is  there  no  one  but  this  little  mounte- 
bank to  look  after  you  ?  "  asked  the  old  lady. 
"  Where  is  your  nurse  ?  " 

"  She  is  coming  back  in  a  few  minutes," 
answered  Bessie.  "And  Hafed  is  not  a — a  — 
that  thing  you  called  him,  ma'am.  He  is  only 
a  little  Persian  whom  Uncle  Yuthven  brought 
from  far  away  over  the  sea,  and  he's  a  very 
good  boy.  He  does  not  know  a  great  many 
of  our  words,  but  he  tries  to  learn  them,  and 
he  knows  about  our  Jesus,  and  tries  to  be  a 
good  little  boy." 

Dear  Bessie  wished  to  say  all  she  could  in 


An   Unexpected   Visitor.  155 

praise  of  Hafed,  whom  she  thought  the  old 
lady  looked  at  with  displeasure.  Perhaps 
Hafed  thought  so,  also,  for  he  seemed  very 
much  as  if  he' would  like  to  hide  away  from 
her  gaze.  Meanwhile  Maggie  sat  perfectly 
silent.  When  the  old  lady  had  first  spoken, 
she  started  violently,  and,  clasping  her  arms 
tightly  about  the  baby,  looked  more  and  more 
frightened  each  instant ;  while  baby,  who  was 
not  usually  shy,  nestled  her  little  head  timidly 
against  her  sister's  shoulder,  and  stared  at  the 
stranger  with  eyes  of  grave  infant  wonder. 

"  And  so  you  are  Maggie,"  said  the  lady, 
coming  closer  to  the  crib. 

Poor  Maggie  gave  a  kind  of  gasp  by  way  of 
answer. 

"  Do  you  not  know  me,  Maggie  ? "  asked 
the  old  lady,  in  a  voice  which  she  intended  to 
be  coaxing. 

To  Bessie's  dismay,  Maggie  burst  into  one 
of  those  sudden  and  violent  fits  of  crying,  to 
which  she  would  sometimes  give  way  when 
much  frightened  or  distressed. 


156  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

u  Why,  why  !  "  said  the  stranger,  as  the 
baby,  startled  by  Maggie's  sobs,  and  the  way 
in  which  she  clutched  her,  raised  her  voice 
also  in  a  loud  cry.  "  Why,  why  !  what  is  all 
this  about  ?  Do  you  not  know  your  Aunt 
Patty  ?  " 

Aunt  Patty  !  Was  it  possible  ?  At  this  as- 
tounding and  alarming  news,  Bessie  plumped 
down  again  in  the  bed  beside  Maggie,  amazed 
at  herself  for  having  dared  to  speak  so  bold- 
ly to  that  terrible  person.  And  yet  she  had 
not  seemed  so  terrible,  nor  had  she  felt 
much  afraid  of  her  till  she  found  out  who  she 
was. 

But  now  Mrs.  Lawrence  was  losing  patience. 
Certainly  she  had  not  had  a  very  pleasant  re- 
ception. Coming  cold  and  tired  from  a  long 
journey,  she  had  found  her  host  and  hostess 
out,  and  no  one  but  the  servants  to  receive 
her.  This  was  her  own  fault,  of  course,  since 
she  had  not  told  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bradford  to  ex- 
pect her ;  but  that  did  not  make  it  the  less  an- 
noying to  her.     It  is  not  always  the  easier  to 


An   Unexpected    Visitor.  157 

bear  a  thing  because  we  ourselves  are  to  blame 
for  it. 

However,  she  had  made  up  her  mind  not  to 
be  vexed  about  it,  and  at  once  went  to  the 
nursery  to  make  acquaintance  with  the  chil- 
dren. But  the  greeting  she  received  was  not 
of  a  kind  to  please  any  one,  least  of  all  a  per- 
son of  Aunt  Patty's  temper.  And  there  was 
worse  still  to  come. 

"  What  is  the  meaning  of  all  this  ?  "  asked 
Mrs.  Lawrence,  in  an  angry  tone.  u  Here, 
Maggie,  give  me  that  child,  and  stop  crying 
at  once." 

As  she  spoke,  she  tried  to  take  the  baby, 
but  poor  Maggie,  now  in  utter  despair, 
shrieked  aloud  for  nurse,  and  held  her  lit- 
tle sister  closer  than  before.  Aunt  Patty  was 
determined,  however,  and  much  stronger  than 
Maggie,  and  in  another  minute  the  baby  was 
screaming  in  her  arms. 

"  Oh,  Maggie,  why  don't  somebody  come  ?  " 
cried  Bessie.  "  Oh,  do  say  those  words  to 
her  ?  " 


158  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

Maggie  had  quite  forgotten  how  she  had  in 
tended  to  alarm  Aunt  Patty  if  she  interfered 
with  them ;  but  when  Bessie  spoke,  it  came  to 
her  mind,  and  the  sight  of  her  baby  sister  in 
the  old  lady's  arms  was  too  much  for  her. 
Springing  upon  her  feet,  she  raised  her  arm 
after  the  manner  of  the  woman  in  the  picture, 
and  gasped  out,  "  Beware,  woman  !  " 

Eer  a  moment  Aunt  Patty  took  no  notice 
of  her,  being  occupied  with  trying  to  soothe 
the  baby. 

"  Beware,  woman !  "  cried  Maggie,  in  a 
louder  tone,  and  stamping  her  foot. 

Mrs.  Lawrence  turned  and  looked  at  her. 

"  Beware,  woman  !  "  shrieked  Maggie,  and 
Bessie,  thinking  it  time  for  her  to  come  to  her 
sister's  aid,  joined  in  the  cry,  "  Beware,  wo- 
man !  "  while  Franky,  always  ready  to  take 
part  in  any  disturbance,  struck  at  Aunt  Patty 
with  his  whip,  and  shouted,  "  'Ware,  wo- 
man !  "  and  Hafed,  knowing  nothing  bat  that 
this  old  lady  had  alarmed  and  distressed  his 
young  charge,  and  that  it  was  his  duty  to  pro- 


Bessie's  Friends. 


p.  158. 


An   Unexpected   Visitor.  159 

tect  them,  raised  his  voice  in  a  whoop  of  de- 
fiance, and  snatching  up  the  hearth-brush, 
brandished  it  in  a  threatening  manner  as  he 
danced  wildly  about  her.  Nor  was  this  all, 
for  Flossy,  who  had  also  been  taken  into  the 
crib  as  a  passenger,  commenced  a  furious 
barking,  adding  greatly  to  the  uproar. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  say  which  was  the 
greatest,  Aunt  Patty's  astonishment  or  her 
anger ;  and  there  is  no  knowing  what  she 
would  have  done  or  said,  for  at  this  moment 
the  door  opened,  and  Uncle  Ruthven  ap- 
peared. 

For  a  moment  he  stood  perfectly  motionless 
with  surprise.  It  was  indeed  a  curious  scene 
upon  which  he  looked.  In  the  centre  of  the 
room  stood  an  old  lady  who  was  a  stranger  to 
him,  holding  in  her  arms  the  screaming  baby  : 
while  around  her  danced  his  own  little  servant- 
boy,  looking  as  if  he  might  be  one  of  the  wild 
dervishes  of  his  own  country ;  and  in  the  crib 
stood  his  young  nieces  and  Franky,  all  shout- 
ing, "Beware,  woman?"  over  and  over  again. 


160  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

But  Aunt  Patty  had  not  the  least  idea  of 
"  running  away,  never  to  be  seen  again,"  and 
if  her  conscience  were  "  guilty,"  it  certainly 
did  not  seem  to  be  at  all  alarmed  by  anything 
Maggie  or  Bessie  could  do. 

Nevertheless,  Mr.  Stanton's  appearance  was 
a  great  relief  to  her.  Baby  ceased  her  loud 
cries,  and  stretched  out  her  dimpled  arms  to 
her  uncle,  with  a  beseeching  whimper  ;  Hafed 
paused  in  his  antics,  and  stood  like  a  statue 
at  sight  of  his  master ;  and  the  three  other 
children  all  turned  to  him  with  exclamations 
of  "  Oh,  Uncle  Ruthven  ;  we're  so  glad  !  "  and 
"  Please  don't  leave  us,"  from  Maggie  and 
Bessie  ;  and  "  Make  dat  Patty  be  off  wiz  hei 
self,"  from  Franky. 

Mr.  Stanton  recovered  himself  in  a  moment, 
and  bowing  politely  to  Mrs.  Lawrence,  said, 
with  a  smile  sparkling  in  his  eye,  "  I  fear 
you  are  in  some  trouble,  madam ;  can  I  help 
you  ? » 

"  Help  me?"  repeated  the  old  lady ;  "  I 
fear  you  will   want   help   yourself.     Why,  it 


An    Unexpected    Visitor.  161 

must  need  half  a  dozen  keepers  to  hold  these 
little  Bedlamites  in  any  kind  of  order." 

"  They  are  usually  orderly  enough,"  an^ 
swcrecl  Mr.  Stanton  as  he  took  baby  from 
Aunt  Patty,  who  was  only  too  glad  to  give  her 
up  ;  "  but  I  do  not  understand  this.  What  is 
the  matter,  Maggie,  and  where  is  nurse  ?  " 

But  Maggie  only  answered  by  a  new  burst 
of  sobs,  and  Bessie  spoke  for  her.  "  She's 
Aunt  Patty,  Uncle  Yuthven ;  she  says  she  is." 

"  Well,"  said  Uncle  Ruthven,  more  puzzled 
than  ever,  for  he  knew  little  of  Mrs.  Lawrence, 
save  that  she  was  Mr.  Bradford's  aunt,  "  and 
do  you  welcome  her  with  such  an  uproar  as 
this  ?     Tell  me  where  nurse  is,  Bessie." 

As  he  spoke,  nurse  herself  came  in,  an- 
swering his  question  with,  "  Here  I  am,  sir, 
and  —  " 

Nurse,  in  her  turn,  was  so  astonished  by  the 
unexpected  sight  of  Aunt  Patty  that  she  stood 
quite  still,  gazing  at  her  old  enemy.  But,  as 
she  afterwards  said,  she  presently  "  recollected 
her  manners,"  and  dropping  a  stiff  courtesy 
11 


1 62  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

• 

to  Mrs.  Lawrence,  she  took  the  baby  from  Mr. 
Stanton,  and  in  a  few  words  explained  the 
cause  of  her  ten  minutes'  absence.  The  tear- 
ful faces  of  her  nurslings,  and  that  of  Aunt 
Patty,  flushed  and  angry,  gave  nurse  a  pretty 
good  guess  how  things  had  been  going  while 
she  had  been  away,  but  she  saw  fit  to  ask  no 
questions. 

"  My  lady  is  out,  ma'am,"  she  said,  with 
a  grim  sort  of  politeness  to  Mrs.  Lawrence, 
"  and  I  think  she  was  not  looking  for  you 
just  now,  or  she  would  have  been  at  home." 

Then  Mr.  Stanton  introduced  himself,  and 
asking  Mrs.  Lawrence  if  she  would  let  him 
play  the  part  of  host  till  his  sister  came  home, 
he  offered  the  old  lady  his  arm,  and  led  her 
away. 

Poor  Aunt  Patty !  she  scarcely  knew  what 
to  do.  The  old  angry,  jealous  temper  and 
the  new  spirit  which  had  lately  come  to  dwell 
in  her  heart  were  doing  hard  battle,  each 
striving  for  the  victory.  She  thought,  and 
not  without  reason,  that   her  nephew's  little 


An   Unexpected   Visitor.  163 

children  must  have  been  taught  to  fear  and 
dislike  her,  when  they  could  receive  her  in 
such  a  manner  ;  and  the  evil  spirit  said,  "  Go, 
do  not  remain  in  a  house  where  you  have 
been  treated  so.  Leave  it,  and  never  come 
back  to  it.  You  have  been  insulted  !  do  not 
bear  it !  Tell  these  people  what  you  think  of 
their  unkindness,  and  never  see  them  again. " 
But  the  better  angel,  the  spirit  of  the  meek 
and  lowly  Master,  of  whom  she  was  striving  to 
learn,  said,  "  No,  stay,  and  try  to  overcome 
evil  with  good.  This  is  all  your  own  fault, 
the  consequence  of  your  own  ungoverned  and 
violent  temper.  Your  very  name  has  become 
a  name  of  fear  to  these  innocent  children  ; 
but  you  must  bear  it,  and  let  them  find  they 
have  no  longer  cause  to  dread  you.  And  do 
not  be  too  proud  to  let  their  parents  see  that 
you  are  sorry  for  the  past,  and  wish  it  to  be 
forgotten.  If  this  is  hard,  and  not  what  you 
would  have  expected,  remember  how  much 
they  have  borne  from  you  in  former  days  ; 
how  patient  and  gentle  and  forbearing   they 


1 64  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

Then,  as  her  anger  cooled  down,  she  began 
to  think  how  very  unlikely  it  was  that  Mr. 
or  Mrs.  Bradford  had  said  or  done  anything 
which  could  cause  their  children  to  act  in  the 
way  Maggie  and  Bessie  had  done  that  morn- 
ing. This  was  probably  the  work,  of  others 
who  remembered  how  perverse  and  trying  she 
had  been  during  her  last  visit.  And  Aunt 
Patty  was  forced  to  acknowledge  to  herself 
that  it  was  no  more  than  she  deserved,  or 
might  have  looked  for. 

And  so,  trying  to  reason  herself  into  better 
humor,  as  she  thought  the  matter  over,  she 
began  to  see  its  droll  side  (for  Aunt  Patty 
had  a  quick  sense  of  fun)  and  to  find  some 
amusement  mingling  with  her  vexation  at  the 
singular  conduct  of  the  children. 

Meanwhile,  Mr.  Stanton,  who  saw  that  the 
poor  lady  had  been  greatly  annoyed,  and  who 
wondered  much  at  all  the  commotion  he  had 
seen  in  the  nursery,  though,  like  nurse,  he 
thought  it  wisest  to  ask  no  questions,  was  do- 
ing his  best  to  make  her  forget  it ;  and  so  well 


An   Unexpected    Visitor.  165 

did  he  succeed,  that  presently  Mrs.  Lawrence 
found  herself,  she  scarcely  knew  how,  laugh- 
ing heartily  with  him  as  she  related  the  story 
of  Maggie's  strange  attack  upon  her.  Mr. 
Stanton  understood  it  no  better  than  she  did, 
perhaps  not  so  well ;  but  he  was  very  much 
amused ;  and  as  he  thought  these  young 
nieces  and  nephews  of  his  were  very  wonder- 
ful little  beings,  he  told  Aunt  Patty  many  of 
their  droll  sayings  and  doings,  making  him- 
self so  agreeable  and  entertaining,  that  by  the 
time  his  sister  came  in,  the  old  lady  had  al 
most  forgotten  that  she  had  cause  to  be  of- 
fended, and  was  not  only  quite  ready  to  meet 
Mrs.  Bradford  in  a  pleasant  manner,  but  actu- 
ally went  so  far  as' to  apologize  for  taking  them 
all  by  surprise. 

This  was  a  great  deal  to  come  from  Aunt 
Fatty.  She  would  not  have  spoken  so  four 
years  ago  ;  but  Mrs.  Bradford  was  not  more 
surprised  by  this  than  she  was  at  the  differ- 
ence in  look  and  manner  which  now  showed 
itself  in  the   old   lady.     Surely,  some   great 


1 66  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

change  must  have  come  to  her ;  and  her 
friends,  seeing  how  much  more  patient  and 
gentle  she  was  than  in  former  days,  could  not 
but  think  it  was  the  one  blessed  change  which 
must  come  to  the  hearts  of  those  who  seek  for 
love  and  peace  by  the  true  way. 

.- 


VIII. 

FRANKY. 

UT  although  such  a  great  and  delight- 
ful alteration  had  taken  place  in  Mrs. 
Lawrence,  and  although  Mrs.  Brad- 
ford and  Miss  Rush  did  all  they  could  to 
make  the  children  feel  kindly  towards  her,  it 
was  some  days  before  things  went  at  all 
smoothly  between  the  old  lady  and  the  little 
ones,  and  Annie  Stanton,  seeing  the  conse- 
quence of  her  thoughtlessness,  had  more  than 
once  reason  to  regret  it,  and  to  take  to  herself 
a  lesson  to  refrain  from  evil  speaking. 

Maggie  and  Bessie,  it  is  true,  were  too  old 
and  too  well  behaved  to  speak  their  fear  and 
their  dislike  openly,  by  word  or  action,  but  it 
was  plainly  to  be  seen  in  their  looks  and 
manners.     Poor  Aunt  Patty !     She  heard  the 


168  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

sweet,  childish  voices  prattling  about  the 
house,  ringing  out  so  freely  and  joyfully  in 
peals  of  merry  laughter,  or  singing  to  simple 
music  the  pretty  hymns  and  songs  their  dear 
mother  and  Mrs.  Rush  had  taught  them  ;  but 
the  moment  she  appeared,  sweet  song,  inno- 
cent talk,  and  gay  laugh  were  hushed ;  the 
little  ones  were  either  silent,  or  whispered  to 
one  another  in  subdued,  timid  tones.  Little 
feet  would  come  pattering,  or  skipping  along 
the  hall,  a  small,  curly  head  peep  within  the 
door,  and  then  vanish  at  sight  of  her,  while  a 
whisper  of  "  She's  there ;  let's  run,"  told  the 
cause  of  its  sudden  disappearance.  She  saw 
them  clinging  around  their  other  friends  and 
relations  with  loving  confidence,  climbing  up- 
on their  knees,  clasping  their  necks,  pressing 
sweet  kisses  on  their  cheeks  and  lips,  asking 
freely  for  all  the  interest,  sympathy,  and  affec- 
tion they  needed.  Father  and  mother,  grand- 
parents, aunts,  and  uncles,  Colonel  and  Mrs. 
Rush,  the  very  servants,  who  had  been  long 
in  the  house,  all  came  in  for  a  share  of  child- 


Franky.  169 

ish  love  and  trust.  But  for  her  they  had 
nothing  but  shy,  downcast  looks,  timid,  half- 
whispered  answers ;  they  shrank  from  the 
touch  of  her  hand,  ran  from  her  presence. 
Yes,  poor  Aunt  Patty !  the  punishment  was  a 
severe  one,  and,  apart  from  the  pain  it  gave 
her,  it  was  hard  for  a  proud  spirit  such  as  hers 
to  bear.  But  she  said  nothing,  did  not  even 
complain  to  Mrs.  Bradford  of  the  reception 
she  had  met  with  from  Maggie  and  Bessie, 
and  it  was  only  by  Uncle  Ruthven's  account 
and  the  confession  of  the  little  girls  that  their 
mamma  knew  what  had  occurred. 

On  the  morning  after  Mrs.  Lawrence's  arri- 
val, Maggie,  as  usual,  brought  the  "  Complete 
Family  "  to  her  mother  to  have  the  spelling 
corrected,  and  Mrs.  Bradford  found  written, 
"  *  Beware,  woman  ! '  is  not  a  bit  of  use.  It 
don't  frighten  people  a  bit ;  not  even  gilty 
conshuns,  and  Uncle  John  just  teased  me  1 
know.     It  is  real  mean." 

Mamma  asked  the  meaning  of  this,  and,  in 
a  very  aggrieved  manner,  Maggie  told  her  of 


170  Be  site  and  her  Friends. 

Uncle  John's  explanation  of  the  picture,  and 
how  she  thought  she  would  try  the  experiment 
on  Aunt  Patty  when  she  had  insisted  on  tak- 
ing the  baby. 

"  But  it  was  all  of  no  purpose,  mamma," 
said  Maggie,  in  a  very  injured  tone  ;  "  she  did 
not  care  at  all,  but  just  stood  there,  looking 
madder  and  madder." 

Mamma  could  scarcely  wonder  that  Aunt 
Patty  had  looked  "  madder  and  madder,"  and 
she  told  Maggie  that  she  thought  her  aunt 
wished  to  be  kind  and  good  since  she  had  not 
uttered  one  word  of  complaint  at  the  rude  re- 
ception she  had  met  with.  But  the  little  girl 
did  not  see  it  with  her  mother's  eyes,  and 
could  not  be  persuaded  to  think  less  hardly  of 
Aunt  Patty. 

But  that  rogue,  Franky,  was  not  afraid  to 
show  his  feelings.  He  was  a  bold  little  mon- 
key, full  of  life  and  spirits,  and  always  in  mis- 
chief :  and  now  he  seemed  to  have  set  himself 
purposely  to  defy  and  brave  Mrs.  Lawrence, 
acting  as  if  he  wished  to  see  how  far  he  could 


Frqnky.  171 

go  without  meeting  punishment  at  her  hands. 
This  sad  behavior  of  Franky's  was  particu- 
larly unfortunate,  because  the  old  lady  had 
taken  a  special  love  for  the  little  boy,  fancying 
he  looked  like  the  dear  father  who  so  many 
years  ago  had  been  drowned  beneath  the  blue 
waters  of  the  Swiss  lake. 

A  day  or  two  after  Aunt  Patty  came,  she, 
with  Mrs.  Bradford  and  Miss  Rush,  was  in 
the  parlor  with  three  or  four  morning  visitors. 
Franky  had  just  learned  to  open  the  nursery 
door  for  himself,  and  this  piece  of  knowledge 
he  made  the  most  of,  watching  his  chance 
and  slipping  out  the  moment  nurse's  eye  was 
turned  from  him.  Finding  one  of  these  op- 
portunities for  which  he  was  so  eager,  he  ran 
out  and  went  softly  down-stairs,  fearing  to 
hear  nurse  calling  him  ba,ck.  But  nurse  did 
not  miss  him  at  first,  and  he  reached  the  par- 
lor in  triumph.  Here  the  door  stood  partly 
open,  and  putting  in  his  head,  he  looked 
around  the  room.  No  one  noticed  the  roguish 
little  face,  with  its  mischievous,  dancing  eyes, 


172  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

for  all  the  ladies  were  listening  to  Aunt  Patty, 
as  she  told  them  some  very  interesting  anec- 
dote. 

Suddenly  there  came  from  the  door,  in 
clear,  childish  tones,  "  Ladies,  ladies,  does 
Patty  stold  00  ?  Oo  better  wun  away,  she 
stolds  very  dreadful." 

After  which  Master  Franky  ran  away  him- 
self as  fast  as  his  feet  could  carry  him,  laugh 
ing  and  chuckling  as  he  mounted  the  stairs, 
as  if  he  had  done  something  very  fine. 

Mrs.  Lawrence  went  straight  on  with  her 
story,  not  pausing  for  an  instant,  though  that 
she  heard  quite  as  plainly  as  any  one  else  was 
to  be  seen  by  the  flush  of  color  on  her  cheek, 
and  the  uplifting  of  the  already  upright  head. 

As  for  poor  Mrs.  Bradford,  it  was  very  mor- 
tifying for  her;  but  what  was  to  be  done? 
Nothing,  just  nothing,  as  far  as  Aunt  Patty 
was  concerned.  It  was  not  a  thing  for  which 
pardon  could  well  be  asked  or  an  apology 
made,  and  Mrs.  Bradford  thought  the  best 
way   was   to   pass  it    over  in   silence.      She 


Franky.  173 

talked  very  seriously  to  Franky,  but  it  seemed 
impossible  to  make  the  little  boy  understand 
that  he  had  done  wrong ;  and,  although  noth 
ing  quite  as  bad  as  this  occurred  again  for  sev- 
eral days,  he  still  seemed  determined  to  make 
war  upon  Aunt  Patty  whenever  he  could  find 
a  chance  of  doing  so.  And  yet,  strange  to 
say,  this  unruly  young  gentleman  was  the 
first  one  of  the  children  to  make  friends  with 
his  old  auntie  ;  and  it  came  about  in  this 
way :  — 

Aunt  Bessie  had  brought  as  her  Christmas 
gift  to  Franky  a  tiny  pair  of  embroidered 
slippers,  which  were,  as  her  namesake  said, 
"  perferly  cunning,"  and  in  which  the  little  boy 
took  great  pride.  Nurse,  also,  thought  a  great 
deal  of  these  slippers,  and  was  very  choice  of 
them,  allowing  Franky  to  wear  them  only 
while  she  was  dressing  or  undressing  him. 
But  one  day  when  she  brought  him  in  from 
his  walk,  she  found  his  feet  very  cold,  and  tak- 
ing off  his  walking-shoes,  she  put  on  the  slip- 
pers, and  planted  him  in  front  of  the  fire,  tell- 


1 74  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

ing  him  to  "  toast  bis  toes."  No  sooner  did 
the  little  toes  begin  to  feel  at  all  comfortable 
than  Franky  looked  around  for  some  way 
of  putting  them  to  what  he  considered  their 
proper  use;  namely,  trotting  about.  That 
tempting  nursery-door  stood  ajar,  nurse's  eyes 
were  turned  another  way,  and  in  half  a  min 
ute  he  was  off  again.  Mammy  missed  him 
very  soon,  and  sent  Jane  to  look  for  him. 
She  met  him  coming  up-stairs,  and  brought 
him  back  to  the  nursery  with  a  look  in  his  eye 
which  nurse  knew  meant  that  he  had  been 
in  mischief.  And  was  it  possible  ?  He  was 
in  his  stocking  feet !  The  precious  slippers 
were  missing.  In  vain  did  the  old  woman 
question  him ;  he  would  give  her  no  answer, 
only  looking  at  her  with  roguishness  dancing 
in  every  dimple  on  his  chubby  face  ;  and  in 
vain  did  Jane  search  the  halls  and  staircase. 
So  at  last  nurse  took  him  to  his  mother,  and 
very  unwilling  he  was  to  go,  knowing  right 
well  that  he  had  been  naughty,  and  that  now 
he  would  be  obliged  to  confess  it. 


Franky,  175 

"  Where  are  your  slippers,  Franky  ?  "  asked 
Mrs.  Bradford,  when  nurse  had  told  her 
story. 

Franky  hung  his  head  and  put  his  finger 
1  into  his  mouth,  then  lifted  his  face  coaxingly 
to  his  mother  for  a  kiss. 

"  Mamma  cannot  kiss  you  till  you  are  a 
good  boy,"  said  Mrs.  Bradford,  and  repeated 
her  question,  "  Where  are  your  slippers  ?  " 

"  In  Patty's  pottet,"  said  Franky,  seeing 
that  his  mother  would  have  an  answer,  and 
thinking  he  had  best  have  it  out. 

"  And  how  came  they  in  Aunt  Patty's 
pocket?  " 

"  She  put  dem  dere  hersef,"  answered  the 
child. 

"  Did  she  take  them  off  your  feet,  Franky  ?  " 

"  No,  mamma,"  answered  Franky,  liking 
these  questions  still  less  than  he  had  done  the 
others. 

"  How  did  they  come  off  then  ?  " 

"  Me  trow  dem  at  Patty,"  said  Franky. 

At  last,  after  much  more  questioning  and 


176  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

some  whimpering  from  the  child,  he  was 
brought  to  confess  that  he  had  gone  to  the 
library,  where  he  found  Aunt  Patty.  Defying 
her  as  usual,  and  trying  how  far  he  could  go, 
without  punishment,  he  had  called  her  "  bad 
old  sing,"  and  many  other  naughty  names  ; 
but  finding  this  did  not  bring  the  expected 
scolding,  he  had  pulled  off  first  one  and  then 
the  other  of  his  slippers  and  thrown  them 
at  the  old  lady.  These  Mrs.  Lawrence  had 
picked  up  and  put  in  her  pocket,  still  without 
speaking.  Little  Franky  could  not  tell  how 
sorrow  and  anger  were  both  struggling  in  her 
heart   beneath  that  grave  silence. 

When  Mrs.  Bradford  had  found  out  all 
Franky  could  or  would  tell,  she  told  him 
he  was  a  very  naughty  little  boy,  and  since  he 
had  behaved  so  badly  to  Aunt  Patty,  he  must 
go  at  once  and  ask  her  pardon.  This  Franky 
had  no  mind  to  do.  He  liked  very  well  to 
brave  Aunt  Patty  from  a  safe  distance  ;  but 
he  did  not  care  to  trust  himself  within  reach 
of  the  punishment  he  knew  he  so  justly  de- 


Franky.  177 

served.  Besides,  he  was  in  a  naughty,  obsti- 
nate mood,  and  would  not  obey  his  mother  as 
readily  as  usual.  But  mamma  was  deter- 
mined, as  it  was  right  she  should  be,  and  af- 
ter rather  a  hard  battle  with  her  little  son, 
she  carried  him  down-stairs,  still  sobbing,  but 
subdued  and  penitent,  to  beg  Aunt  Patty's 
forgiveness. 

"  Me  sorry,  me  do  so  any  more,"  said 
Franky,  meaning  he  would  do  so  no  more. 

To  his  surprise,  and  also  somewhat  to  his 
mother's,  the  old  lady  caught  him  in  her 
arms,  and  covered  his  face  with  kisses,  while 
a  tear  or  two  shone  in  her  eye. 

"  Don't  ky ;  me  dood  now,"  lisped  Frankv, 
forgetting  all  his  fear,  and  putting  up  his 
hand  to  wipe  away  her  tears  ;  and  from  this 
minute  Aunt  Patty  and  Franky  were  the 
best  of  friends.  Indeed,  so  indulgent  did  she 
become  to  him,  that  papa  and  mamma  were 
quite  afraid  he  would  be  spoiled  ;  for  the  little 
gentleman,  finding  out  his  power,  lorded  it 
over  her  pretty  well.  Mrs.  Bradford,  coming 
12 


178  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

in  unexpectedly  one  day,  actually  found  the 
old  lady  on  her  hands  and  knees,  in  a  corner, 
playing  the  part  of  a  horse  eating  hay  from  a 
manger  ;  while  Franky,  clothes-brush  in  hand, 
was,  much  to  his  own  satisfaction,  pretending 
to  rub  her  down,  making  the  hissing  noise 
used  by  coachmen  when  they  curry  a  horse, 
and  positively  refusing  to  allow  his  patient 
playfellow  to  rise. 

But  Maggie  and  Bessie  could  not  be  persuad- 
ed to  be  at  all  friendly  or  sociable  with  Aunt 
Patty.  True,  after  their  first  dread  of  her 
wore  off,  and  they  found  she  was  by  no  means 
so  terrible  as  they  had  imagined,  they  no  lon- 
ger scampered  off  at  the  least  sound  of  her 
voice  or  glimpse  of  her  skirts,  as  they  had 
done  at  first ;  and  Bessie  even  found  courage 
to  speak  to  her  now  and  then,  always  looking 
however,  as  if  she  thought  she  was  running  a 
great  risk,  and  could  not  tell  what  would  be 
the  consequence  of  such  boldness.  For  after 
all  they  had  heard,  our  little  girls  found 
it  impossible   to   believe   that   such    a   great 


Franky  179 

change  had  taken  place  in  lunt  Patty,  and 
were  always  watching  for  &*>ttw  outbreak  of 
temper. 

Unhappily  there  was  one  tiling  which  stood 
much  in  Aunt  Patty's  way,  not  c^iiy  with  the 
children,  but  perhaps  with  some  grown  peo- 
ple also,  and  that  was  her  old  way  of  med- 
dling and  finding  fault  with  things  which  did 
not  concern  her.  This  she  did,  almost  with- 
out knowing  it ;  for  so  it  is,  where  we  have 
long  indulged  in  a  habit,  it  becomes,  as  it 
were,  a  part  of  ourselves,  and  the  older  we 
grow,  the  harder  it  is  to  rid  ourselves  of  it. 
And  there  are  few  things  which  sooner  rouse 
the  evil  passions  and  dislike  of  others  than  this 
trick  of  fault-finding  where  we  hare  no  righ§ 
or  need  to  do  so,  or  of  meddling  with  th*' 
which  does  not  concern  us.  So  Mrs.  Law 
rence,  without  intending  it,  was  constantly 
fretting  and  aggravating  those  around  her 
while  Maggie  and  Bessie,  who  thought  that  aL 
their  mamma  did  or  said  was  quite  perfect, 
were  amazed  and  indignant  when  they  heard 


180  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

her  rules  and  wishes  questioned  and  found 
fault  with,  and  sometimes  even  set  aside  by 
Aui^t  Patty,  if  she  thought  another  way  bet- 
ter 


IX. 


BEAR   YE   ONE  ANOTHER'S  BURDENS." 


NE  Sunday  when  Mrs.  Lawrence  had 
been  with  them  about  two  weeks,  Mag- 
gie and  Bessie,  on  going  as  usual  to 
their  class  at  Mrs.  Rush's,  found  that  they  two 
were  to  make  up  her  whole  class  that  morn- 
ing ;  for  Gracie  Howard  was  sick,  and  Lily 
Norris  gone  on  a  visit  to  her  grandfather  who 
lived  in  the  country.  Mrs.  Rush  was  not  very 
sorry  to  have  her  favorite  scholars  by  them- 
selves, for  she  wished  to  give  them  a  little  les- 
son which  it  was  not  necessary  that  the  others 
should  hear.  And  Maggie  gave  her  the  oppor- 
tunity for  which  she  wished  by  asking  Colonel 
Rush  for  the  story  of  Benito. 

"  For,"  said   the   little   girl,  "  if  we  were 
away  and  Lily  and  Gracie  here,  and  you  told 


1 82  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

them  a  new  story,  we  should  be  very  disap- 
pointed not  to  hear  it ;  so  Bessie  and  I  made 
agreement  to  ask  for  an  old  one,  and  we  like 
Benito  better  than  any." 

"'Very  well;  it  shall  be  as  you  say,"  re- 
plied  the  colonel,  who,  provided  his  pets  were 
satisfied,  was  so  himself,  and  after  the  chil- 
dren had  gone,  he  said  to  his  wife,  "  Certainly 
there  are  few  things  in  which  our  sweet  little 
Maggie  does  not  act  up  to  the  Golden  Rule,  of 
which  she  is  so  fond.  She  does  not  repeat  it 
in  a  parrot-like  way,  as  many  do,  but  she  un- 
derstands what  it  means,  and  practises  it  too, 
with  her  whole  heart." 

So  when  the  lessons  were  over,  the  colonel 
told  the  story  of  Benito,  which  never  seemed 
to  lose  its  freshness  with  these  little  listen- 
ers. When  he  came  to  the  part  where  Benito 
helped  the  old  dame  with  her  burden,  Mrs. 
Rush  said,  "  Children,  what  do  you  think  that 
burden  was  ?  " 

"  We  don't  know,"  said  Bessie.     "  What  ?  " 

"  Neither  do  I  know,"  answered  Mrs.  Rush. 


Bear  ye  One  Another's  Burdens,  183 

"  I  was  only  thinking  what  it  might  be.  Per- 
haps it  was  pain  and  sickness  ;  perhaps  the 
loss  of  friends  ;  perhaps  some  old,  troublesome 
.  sin,  sorely  repented  of,  long  struggled  with, 
but  which  still  returned  again  and  again,  to 
weary  and  almost  discourage  her  as  she  toiled 
along  in  the  road  which  led  to  the  Father's 
house.  Perhaps  it  was  all  of  them  ;  but  what 
ever  it  was,  Benito  did  not  pause  to  ask  ;  he 
only  thought  of  his  Lord's  command,  '  Bear 
ye  one  another's  burdens  ; '  and  so  put  his 
hand  to  the  load,  and  eased  the  old  dame's 
pain  and  weariness.  Was  it  not  so  ?  "  she 
asked  of  her  husband. 

"  I  think  so,"  he  answered. 

"  But  a  little  child  could  not  help  grown 
persons  to  bear  their  sins,  or  to  cure  them," 
said  Bessie ;  u  they  must  go  to  Jesus  for 
that." 

"  Yes,  we  must  go  to  Jesus ;  but  the  very 
love  and  help  and  pity  we  have  from  him 
teach  us  to  show  all  we  can  to  our  fellow- 
creatures,   whether  they   are   young   or   old. 


184  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

One  of  the  good  men  whom  Jesus  left  on 
earth  to  do  his  work  and  preach  his  word 
tells  us  that  Christ  was  i  touched  with  the 
feeling  of  our  infirmities,  because  he  was  in 
all  •points  tempted  like  as  we  are.'  This 
means  that,  good  and  pure  and  holy  as  he 
was,  yet  he  allowed  himself  to  suffer  all  the 
trials  and  struggles  and  temptations  which  can 
come  to  poor,  weak  man,  so  that  he  might 
know  just  what  we  feel  as  we  pass  through 
them,  and  just  what  help  we  need.  Yet, 
sorely  tempted  as  he  was,  he  never  fell  into 
sin,  but  returned  to  his  Father's  heaven  pure 
and  stainless  as  he  left  it.  Since  then  Christ 
feels  for  all  the  pains  and  struggles  through 
which  we  go  for  his  sake,  since  he  can  make 
allowance  for  all  our  weakness  and  failures  ; 
and  as  he  is  so  ready  to  give  us  help  in  our 
temptations,  so  much  the  more  ought  we 
who  are  not  only  tempted,  but  too  apt,  in 
spite  of  our  best  efforts,  to  fall  into  sin,  to 
show  to  others  all  the  kindness  and  sympathy 
we  may  at  any  time  need  for  ourselves.     So 


Bear  ye  One  Another's   Burdens,  185 

may  we  try  to  copy  our  Saviour,  '  bearing  one 
another's  burdens/  even  as  he  has  borne  ours, 
by  giving  love  and  pity  and  sympathy  where 
we  can  give  nothing  else.  Benito  was  a  very 
young  child,  scarcely  able  to  walk  on  the  nar- 
row road  without  the  help  of  some  older  and 
wiser  hand,  and  his  weak  shoulders  could 
not  carry  any  part  of  the  old  dame's  load  ; 
but  he  put  his  baby  hands  beneath  it,  and 
gave  her  loving  smiles  and  gentle  words,  and 
these  brought  her  help  and  comfort,  so  that 
she  went  on  her  way,  strengthened  for  the 
rest  of  the  journey.  And,  as  we  know,  Benito 
met  his  reward  as  he  came  to  the  gates  of  his 
Father's  house.  So  much  may  the  youngest 
do  for  the  oldest ;  and  I  think  ive  know  of  an 
old  dame  whose  '  burden  '  our  little  pilgrims, 
Maggie  and  Bessie,  might  help  to  bear,  if  they 
would." 

"  I  just  believe  you  mean  Aunt  Patty  !  " 
exclaimed  Bessie,  in  such  a  tone  as  showed 
she  was  not  very  well  pleased  with  the  idea. 

"  And,"  said  Maggie,  with  just  the  least  lit- 


1 86  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

tie  pout,  "  I  don't  believe  she  is  a  dame  pil- 
grim, and  I  don't  believe  she  is  in  the  narrow 
path,  not  a  bit !  " 

"  There  I  think  you  are  mistaken,  Maggie, 
for,  so  far  as  we  can  judge,  there  is  reason  to 
think  Aunt  Patty  is  walking  in  the  safe  and 
narrow  road  which  leads  to  the  Father's 
house ;  and,  since  she  has  not  been  brought 
to  it  by  paths  quite  so  easy  and  pleasant  as 
some  of  us  have  known,  there  is  all  the  more 
reason  that  we  happier  travellers  should  give 
her  a  helping  hand.  It  may  be  very  little  that 
we  can  give  ;  a  word,  a  look,  a  smile,  a  kind 
offer  to  go  for  some  little  trifle  that  is  needed, 
will  often  cheer  and  gladden  a  heart  that  is 
heavy  with  its  secret  burden.  And  if  we  now 
and  then  get  a  knock,  or  even  a  rather  hard 
scratch  from  those  corners  of  our  neighbor's 
load,  which  are  made  up  of  little  faults  and 
odd  tempers,  we  must  try  not  to  mind  it,  but 
think  only  of  how  tired  those  poor,  weary 
shoulders  must  be  of  the  weight  they  carry." 

"  But,  Mrs.  Rush,"    said   Maggie,   "  Aunt 


Bear  ye  One  Another's  Burdens.  187 

Patty's  corners  scratch  very  hard,  and  hurt 
very  much." 

"  But  the  corners  are  not  half  as  sharp  as 
they  were  once ;  are  they,  dear  ?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Rush,  smiling. 

"  Well,"  said  Maggie,  slowly,  as  if  she 
were  considering,  "  maybe  her  temper  cor- 
ner is  not  so  sharp  as  it  used  to  be,  but  her 
meddling  corner  is  very  bad,  —  yes,  very  bad 
indeed ;  and  it  scratches  like  everything. 
Why,  you  don't  know  how  she  meddles, 
and  what  things  she  says,  even  when  she  is 
not  a  bit  mad.  She  is  all  the  time  telling 
mamma  how  she  had  better  manage ;  just  as 
if  mamma  did  not  know  a  great  deal  better 
than  she  does  about  her  own  children  and 
her  own  house,  and  about  everything  !  And 
she  dismanages  Franky  herself  very  much  ; 
and  she  said  dear  Aunt  Bessie  deserved  to 
have  such  a  bad  sore  throat  'cause  she  would 
go  out  riding  with  Uncle  Ruthven,  when  she 
told  her  it  was  too  cold  ;  and  she  said  the 
colonel "  — 


1 88  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

"  There,  there,  that  will  do,"  said  Mrs. 
Rush,  gently.  "  Do  not  let  us  think  of  what 
Aunt  Patty  does  to  vex  us,  but  see  if  we  do 
not  sometimes  grieve  her  a  little." 

"  Oh  !  she  don't  think  you  do  anything," 
said  Maggie  ;  "  she  says  you  are  a  very  lovely 
young  woman." 

"  Well,"  said  the  colonel,  laughing,  "  nei- 
ther you  nor  I  shall  quarrel  with  her  for  that ; 
shall  we  ?  There  is  one  good  mark  for  Aunt 
Patty ;  let  us  see  how  many  more  we  can 
find." 

"  She  was  very  good  to  Patrick  when  he 
hurt  his  hand  so  the  other  day,"  said  Bessie. 
"  She  washed  it,  and  put  a  yag  on  it,  and 
made  it  feel  a  great  deal  better." 

"  And  she  likes  Uncle  Ruthven  very  much," 
said  Maggie. 

"  That  is  right,"  said  Mrs.  Rush,  "  think 
of  all  the  good  you  can.  When  we  think 
kindly  of  a  person,  we  soon  begin  to  act 
kindly  towards  them,  and  I  am  quite  sure 
that    a    little   love   and   kindness    from    you 


Bear  ye  One  Another *s  Burdens,  189 

would  do  much  to  lighten  Aunt  Patty's 
burden.  And  if  the  sharp  corners  fret  and 
worry  you  a  little,  remember  that  perhaps 
it  is  only  the  weight  of  the  rest  of  the  bur- 
den which  presses  these  into  sight,  and  then 
you  will  not  feel  them  half  as  much.  Will 
you  try  if  you  can  be  like  Benito,  and  so  re- 
ceive the  blessing  of  Him  who  says  the  cup 
of  cold  water  given  in  his  name  shall  meet  its 
reward  ?  " 

"  We'll  try,"  said  Maggie,  "but  I  don't 
think  we'll  succeed." 

"  And  if  at  first  you  don't  succeed,  what 
then  ?  " 

"  Then  try,  try,  try  again,"  said  Maggie, 
cheerfully,  for  she  was  already  trying  to  think 
what  she  might  do  to  make  Aunt  Patty's  bur- 
den more  easy  :  "  but  —  " 

"  But  what,  dear  ?  " 

"  I  hope  she  wont  shed  tears  of  joy  upon 
my  bosom,"  said  Maggie,  growing  grave  again 
at  the  thought  of  such  a  possibility ;  "  I 
wouldn't  quite  like  that" 


190  Bessie  and  her  Friends* 

"  And  what  does  Bessie  say  ?  "  asked  the 
colonel. 

"  I  was  thinking  how  precious  it  is,"  said 
the  little  girl,  turning  upon  the  colonel's  face 
those  serious  brown  eyes  which  had  been  gaz- 
ing so  thoughtfully  into  the  fire. 

"  How  precious  what  is,  my  darling  ?  " 

"  To  think  Jesus  knows  how  our  tempta- 
tions feel,  'cause  he  felt  them  himself,  and  so 
knows  just  how  to  help  us  and  be  sorry  for 
us." 

Colonel  Rush  had  his  answer  to  both  ques- 
tions. 

That  same  Sunday  evening,  the  children 
were  all  with  their  father  and  mother  in  the 
library.  Mrs.  Lawrence  sat  in  an  arm-chair 
by  the  parlor  fire,  alone,  or  nearly  so,  for  Miss 
Rush  and  Mr.  Stanton  in  the  window  at  the 
farther  side  of  the  room  were  not  much  com- 
pany to  any  one  but  themselves. 

Certainly  the  poor  old  lady  felt  lonely 
enough,  as,  with  her  clasped  hands  lying 
upon  her  lap,  her  chin  sunk  upon  her  breast, 


Bear  ye  One  Another's  Burdens,   191 

and  her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  fire,  she  thought 
of  the  long,  long  ago,  when  she,  too,  was 
young,  bright,  and  happy  ;  when  those  around 
lived  only  for  her  happiness. 

Ah  !  how  different  it  all  was  now !  They 
were  all  gone,  —  the  youth,  the  love,  the  hap- 
piness ;  gone,  also,  were  the  wasted  years  which 
she  might  have  spent  in  the  service  of  the  Mas- 
ter whom  she  had  sought  so  late  ;  gone  all  the 
opportunities  which  he  had  given  her  of  gain- 
ing the  love  and  friendship  of  her  fellow-crea- 
tures. And  now  how  little  she  could  do,  old 
and  feeble  and  helpless  as  she  was.  And 
what  hard  work  it  was  to  struggle  with  the 
evil  tempers  and  passions  to  which  she  had  so 
long  given  way  ;  how  difficult,  when  some  tri- 
fle vexed  her,  to  keep  back  the  sharp  and 
angry  word,  to  put  down  the  wish  to  bend 
everything  to  her  own  will,  to  learn  of  Him 
who  was  meek  and  lowly  in  heart ! 

And  there  was  no  one  to  know,  no  one  to 
sympathize,  no  one  to  give  her  a  helping  hand 
in  this  weary,  up-hill  work,  to  guess  how  heav- 


192  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

ily  the  burden  of  past  and  present  sin  bore 
upon  the  poor,  aching  shoulders.  In  her 
longing  for  the  human  love  and  sympathy  she 
had  once  cast  from  her,  and  which  she  could 
not  now  bring  herself  to  ask,  the  poor  old  lady 
almost  forgot  that  there  was  one  Eye  to  see 
the  struggles  made  for  Jesus'  sake,  one  Hand 
outstretched  to  save  and  to  help,  one  Voice  to 
whisper,  "  Be  of  good  courage." 

True,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bradford  were  always 
kind  and  thoughtful,  and  all  treated  her  with 
due  respect  and  consideration ;  but  that  was 
not  all  she  wanted.  If  the  children  would 
but  love  and  trust  her.  There  would  be  sucn 
comfort  in  that ;  but  in  spite  of  all  her  efforts, 
they  were  still  shy  and  shrinking,  —  all,  save 
that  little  tyrant,  Franky.  Even  fearless  Fred 
was  quiet  and  almost  dumb  in  her  presence. 

So  Aunt  Patty  sat,  and  sadly  thought,  un- 
conscious of  the  wistful  pair  of  eyes  which 
watched  her  from  the  other  room,  until  by 
and  by  a  gentle  footstep  came  stealing  round 
her  chair,  a  soft  little  hand  timidly  slipped  it- 


Bear  ye  One  Another's  Burdens,  193 

self  into  her  own,  and  she  turned  to  see  Bes- 
sie's sweet  face  looking  at  her,  half  in  pity, 
half  in  wonder. 

"  Well,  dear,"  she  asked,  after  a  moment's 
surprised  silence,  "  What  is  it  ?  " 

Truly,  Bessie  scarcely  knew  herself  what  it 
was.  She  had  been  watching  Aunt  Patty  as 
she  sat  looking  so  sad  and  lonely,  and  think- 
ing of  Mrs.  Bush's  lesson  of  the  morning,  till 
her  tender  little  heart  could  bear  it  no  longer, 
and  she  had  come  to  the  old  lady's  side,  not 
thinking  of  anything  particular  she  would  do 
or  say,  but  just  with  the  wish  to  put  a  loving 
hand  to  the  burden. 

"  Do  you  want  anything,  Bessie  ?  "  asked 
Mrs.  Lawrence  again. 

"  No,  ma'am,  but  "  —  Bessie  did  not  quite 
like  to  speak  of  Aunt  Patty's  troubles,  so 
she  said,  "  I  have  a  little  burden,  too,  Aunt 
Patty." 

Aunt  Patty  half  smiled  to  herself  as  sne 
looked  into  the  earnest,  wistful  eyes.  She, 
this  innocent  little  one,  the  darling  and   pet 

13 


194  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

of   all    around    her,  what    burden    could    slid 
have  to  bear  ?     .She   did  not  know  the  mean 
ing  of  the  word.     Then  came  a  vexed,  suspi 
cious  thought. 

"  Who  told  you  that  I  had  any  burden  to 
bear,  child  ?  "  she  asked,  sharply. 

"  Every  one  has  :  haven't  they  ?  "  said  Bes- 
sie, rather  frightened  ;  then,  strong  in  her  lov- 
ing, holy  purpose,  she  went  on.  ;-  Everybody 
has  some  burden  :  don't  they.  Aunt  Patty  ?  If 
our  Father  makes  them  very  happy,  still  they 
have  their  faults,  like  I  do.  And  if  he  don't 
make  them  very  happy,  the  faults  are  a  great 
deal  harder  to  bear ;  are  they  not  ?  " 

"  And  what  burden  have  you,  dearie  ?  '* 
asked  the  old  lady,  quite  softened. 

"  My  tempers,"''  said  the  child,  gravely.  "I 
used  to  be  in  passions  very  often.  Aunt  Patty, 
till  Jesus  helped  me  so  much,  and  very  often 
now  I  have  passions  in  myself  when  some  one 
makes  me  offended  ;  but  if  I  ask  Him  quite 
quick  to  help  me,  he  always  does.  But  it  is 
pretty  hard  sometimes,  and  I  think  that  is  my 


Bear  ye  One  Another's  Burdens.   195 

burden.  Maybe  it's  only  a  little  one,  though, 
and  I  oughtn't  to  speak  about  it." 

Aunt  Patty  was  surprised,  no  less  at  the 
child's  innocent  freedom  in  speaking  to  her 
than  at  what  she  said,  for  she  had  never  sus- 
pected that  gentle  little  Bessie  had  a  passion- 
ate temper.  She  looked  at  her  for  a  moment, 
and  then  said,  "  Then  thank  God  every  day  of 
your  life,  Bessie,  that  he  has  saved  you  from 
the  misery  of  growing  up  with  a  self-willed, 
ungoverned  temper.  Thank  him  that  his 
grace  has  been  sufficient  to  help  you  to  battle 
with  it  while  you  are  young,  that  age  and  long 
habit  have  not  strengthened  it  till  it  seems 
like  a  giant  you  cannot  overcome.  You  will 
never  know  what  misery  it  becomes  then, 
with  what  force  the  tempter  comes  again  and 
again  ;  no  one  knows,  no  one  knows  !  " 

Perhaps  Mrs.  Lawrence  was  talking  more  to 
herself  than  to  Bessie  ;  but  the  child  under 
stood  her,  and  answered  her. 

"  Jesus  knows,"  she  said,  softly,  and  with 
that  tender,  lingering  tone  with  which  she 
always  spoke  the  Saviour's  name. 


196  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

"  Jesus  knows,"  repeated  the  old  lady,  al- 
most as  if  the  thought  came  to  her  for  the 
first  time. 

"  Yes,  Jesus  knows,"  said  Bessie,  putting 
up  her  small  fingers  with  a  little  caressing 
touch  to  Aunt  Patty's  cheek  ;  "  and  is  it  not 
sweet  and  precious,  Aunt  Patty,  to  think  he 
had  temptations  too,  and  so  can  know  just 
how  hard  we  have  to  try  not  to  grieve  him  ? 
Mrs.  Rush  told  us  about  it  to-day,  and  I  love 
to  think  about  it  all  the  time.  And  she  told 
us  how  he  helped  every  one  to  bear  their  bur- 
dens ;  and  now  we  ought  to  help  each  other 
too,  'cause  that  was  what  he  wanted  us  to  do. 
But  if  sometimes  we  cannot  help  each  other, 
'cause  we  don't  know  about  their  burdens, 
Jesus  can  always  help  us,  'cause  he  always 
knows  ;  don't  he  ?  " 

"  Bessie,  come  and  sing,"  called  mamma 
from  the  other  room,  and  away  ran  the  little 
comforter  to  join  her  voice  with  the  others  in 
the  Sabbath  evening  hymn. 

Yes,  she  had  brought  comfort  to  the  worn 


Bear  ye  One  Another's  Burdens,  197 

and  weary  heart ;  she  had  put  her  hand  to 
Aunt  Patty's  burden  and  eased  the  aching 
pain. 

"  Jesus  knows."  Again  and  again  the 
words  came  back  to  her,  bringing  peace  and 
rest  and  strength  for  all  days  to  come.  She 
had  heard  it  often  before  ;  she  knew  it  well. 
"  Jesus  knows ;  "  but  the  precious  words  had 
never  come  home  to  her  before  as  they  did 
when  they  were  spoken  by  the  sweet,  trustful, 
childish  voice,  —  "  Jesus  knows." 

There  is  no  need  to  tell  that  they  were 
friendly  after  this,  these  two  pilgrims  on  the 
heavenward  way,  —  the  old  woman  and  the  lit- 
tle child,  she  who  had  begun  to  tread  in  her 
Master's  footsteps  so  early  in  life's  bright 
morning,  and  she  who  had  not  sought  to  fol- 
low him  until  the  eleventh  hour,  when  her 
day  was  almost  ended.  For  they  were  both 
clinging  to  one  faith,  both  looking  to  one 
hope,  and  the  hand  of  the  younger  had  drawn 
the  feet  of  the  elder  to  a  firmer  and  surer  foot- 
hold upon  the  Rock  of  Ages,  on  which  both 
were  resting. 


198  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

And  how  was  it  with  our  Maggie  ? 

It  was  far  harder  work  for  her  to  be  sociable 
with  Aunt  Patty  than  it  was  for  Bessie ;  for 
besides  her  fear  of  the  old  lady,  there  was  her 
natural  shyness  to  be  struggled  with.  As  for 
speaking  to  her,  unless  it  was  to  give  a  timid 
u  yes  "  or  "  no  "  when  spoken  to,  that  was,  at 
first,  by  no  means  possible  ;  but  remember- 
ing that  Mrs.  Rush  had  said  that  a  look  or  a 
smile  might  show  good-will  or  kindness,  she 
took  to  looking  and  smiling  with  all  her 
might.  She  would  plant  herself  at  a  short 
distance  from  Aunt  Patty,  and  stare  at  the 
old  lady  till  she  looked  up  and  noticed  her, 
when  she  would  put  on  the  broadest  of  smiles, 
and  immediately  run  away,  frightened  at  her 
own  boldness. 

Mrs.  Lawrence  was  at  first  displeased, 
thinking  Maggie  meant  this  for  imperti- 
nence or  mockery  ;  but  Mrs.  Bradford,  hav- 
ing once  or  twice  caught  Maggie  at  this 
extraordinary  performance,  asked  what  it 
meant,  and  was  told   by  her  little    daughter 


Bear  ye   One  Another's  Burdens*  199 

chat  she  was  only  "  trying  to  bear  Aunt  Pat- 
ty's burden." 

Then  followed  an  account  of  what  Mrs. 
Rush  had  taught  the  children  on  Sunday. 

u  But,  indeed,  indeed,  mamma,"  said  poor 
Maggie,  piteously,  "  I  don't  think  I  can  do 
any  better.  I  do  feel  so  frightened  when  she 
looks  at  me,  and  she  don't  look  as  if  she  liked 
me  to  smile  at  her,  and  this  morning  she  said, 
'  What  are  you  about,  child  ? '  so  crossly  !  " 

Mamma  praised  and  encouraged  her,  and 
afterwards  explained  to  Aunt  Patty  that  Mag- 
gie only  meant  to  be  friendly,  but  that  her 
bashfulness  and  her  friendliness  were  sadly  in 
each  other's  way.  So  Mrs.  Lawrence  was  no 
longer  displeased,  but  like  the  rest  of  Maggie's 
friends,  rather  amused,  when  she  saw  her  des- 
perate efforts  to  be  sociable  ;  and  after  a  time 
even  Maggie's  shyness  wore  away.  Before 
this  came  about,  however,  she  and  Bessie  had 
made  a  discovery  or  two  which  amazed  them 
very  much. 

Surely,  it  might  be  said  of  each  of  these  lit- 
tle ones,  "  She  hath  done  what  she  could." 


X. 


TWO  SUjRPXISES. 


OME  time  after  this  Aunt  Patty  bought 
a  magnificent  toy  menagerie,  not  for 
a  present  to  any  of  her  young  nieces 
and  nephews,  but  to  keep  as  an  attraction  to 
her  own  room  when  she  wished  for  their  com- 
pany. 

Even  Maggie  could  not  hold  out  against 
such  delightful  toys,  and  after  some  coaxing 
from  Bessie,  and  a  good  deal  of  peeping 
through  the  crack  of  the  door  at  these  won- 
derful animals,  she  ventured  into  Aunt  Pat- 
ty's room. 

The  two  little  girls,  with  Franky,  were  there 
one  morning  while  mamma  and  Aunt  Patty 
sat  at  their  work.  The  animals  had  been  put 
through  a  great  number  of  performances,  after 


Two  Surprises.  201 

which  it  was  found  necessary  to  put  the  me- 
nagerie in  thorough  order.  For  this  purpose 
the  wild  beasts  were  all  taken  from  their 
cages,  and  tied  with  chains  of  mamma's 
bright-colored  worsteds  to  the  legs  of  the 
chairs  and  tables,  while  the  cages  were 
rubbed  and  dusted  ;  after  which  they  were 
to  be  escorted  home  again.  This  proved  a 
very  troublesome  business,  for  the  animals, 
as  was  quite  natural,  preferred  the  fields, 
which  were  represented  by  the  green  spots  in 
the  carpet,  to  the  cages,  where  they  were  so 
closely  shut  up,  and  did  not  wish  to  be  carried 
back.  At  least,  so  Maggie  said  when  mamma 
asked  the  cause  of  all  the  growling  and  roar- 
ing which  was  going  on. 

"  You  see,  mamma,"  she  said,  "  they  want 
to  run  away  to  their  own  forests,  and  they 
tried  to  devour  their  keepers,  till  some  very 
kind  giants,  that's  Bessie  and  Franky  and 
me,  came  to  help  the  keepers." 

But  now  Flossy,  who  had  been  lying  quietly 
on  the  rug,  watching  his  chance  for  a  bit  of 


202  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

mischief,  thought  he  had  better  help  the  gi- 
ants, and  rushing  at  an  elephant  with  which 
Franky  was  having  a  great  deal  of  trouble, 
tossed  it  over  with  his  nose,  and  sent  it  whirl- 
ing against  the  side  of  the  room,  where  it  lay 
with  a  broken  leg  and  trunk.  Alas,  for  the 
poor  elephant !  It  was  the  first  one  of  the 
toys  that  had  been  broken,  and  great  was  the 
mourning  over  its  sad  condition,  while  Flossy 
was  sent  into  the  corner  in  disgrace.  Of 
course,  it  was  not  possible  for  the  elephant 
to  walk  home  ;  he  must  ride. 

"  Patty,"  said  Franky,  "  do  down-'tairs  and 
det  my  water-tart ;  it's  in  de  lib'ry." 

"  Franky,  Franky  !  "  said  mamma,  "  is  that 
the  way  to  speak  to  Aunt  Patty  ?  " 

"  Please,"  said  Franky. 

"  Aunt  Patty  has  a  bone  in  her  foot,"  said 
Mrs.  Lawrence. 

Franky  put  his  head  on  one  side,  and  look- 
ing quizzically  at  the  old  lady,  sai'd,  "  Oo  went 
down-'tairs  for  oo  bastet  wis  a  bone  in  oo  foot, 
so  oo  tan  do  for  my  tart  wis  a  bone  in  oo  foot." 


Two  Surprises.  203 

Maggie  and  Bessie  knew  that  this  was 
saucy,  and  expected  that  Aunt  Patty  would 
be  angry  ;  but,  to  their  surprise,  she  laughed, 
and  would  even  have  gone  for  the  cart  if 
mamma  had  not  begged  her  not  to. 

"  Franky,"  said  mamma,  as  the  little  girls, 
seeing  Aunt  Patty  was  not  displeased,  began 
to  chuckle  over  their  brother's  cute  speech, 
"  you  must  not  ask  Aunt  Patty  to  run  about 
for  you.  It  is  not  pretty  for  little  boys  to  do 
so." 

"  But  me  want  my  tart  to  wide  dis  poor  efe- 
lant,"  said  Franky,  coaxingly. 

Bessie  said  she  would  go  for  the  cart,  and 
ran  away  down-stairs.  She  went  through  the 
parlor,  and  reaching  the  library-door,  which 
stood  ajar,  pushed  it  open.  Aunt  Bessie  and 
Uncle  Ruthven  were  there  ;  and  what  did  she 
see  ?  Was  it  possible  ? 
"  Oh  !  "  she  exclaimed. 

At  this  the  two  culprits  turned,  and  seeing 
Bessie's  shocked  and  astonished  face,  Uncle 
Ruthven   laughed   outright,  his   own   hearty, 


204  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

ringing  laugh.  "  Come  here,  princess,"  he 
said. 

But  Bessie  was  off,  the  cart  quite  forgotten. 
Through  the  hall  and  up  the  stairs,  as  fast  as 
the  little  feet  could  patter,  never  pausing  till 
she  reached  mamma's  room,  where  she  buried 
her  face  in  one  of  the  sofa  cushions;  and  there 
her  mother  found  her  some  moments  later. 

"  Why,  Bessie,  my  darling,  what  is  it  ?  " 
asked  mamma.  "  What  has  happened  to 
you  ?  " 

Bessie  raised  her  flushed  and  troubled  face, 
hut  she  was  not  crying,  as  her  mother  had 
supposed,  though  she  looked  quite  ready  to 
do  so. 

"  Oh,  mamma !  "  she  said,  as  Mrs.  Bradford 
sat  down  and  lifted  her  up  on  her  lap. 

"  What  has  troubled  you,  dearest  ?  " 

"  Oh,  mamma,  such  a  shocking  thing  !  I 
don't  know  how  to  tell  you." 

"  Have  you  been  in  any  mischief,  dear  ?  If 
you  have,  do  not  be  afraid  to  tell  your  own 


Two  Surprises.  205 

"  Oh  !  it  was  not  me,  mamma,  but  it  was  a 
dreadful,  dreadful  mischief." 

"Well,  darling,  if  any  of  the  others  have 
been  in  mischief,  of  which  I  should  know,  I 
do  not  think  you  will  speak  of  it  unless  it  is 
necessary!" 

66  But  you  ought  to  know  it,  mamma,  so 
you  can  see  about  it ;  it  was  so  very  unproper. 
But  it  was  not  any  of  us  children  ;  it  was  big 
people  —  it  was  —  it  was  —  Uncle  Yuthven 
and  Aunt  Bessie  ;  and  I'm  afraid  they  wont 
tell  you  themselves." 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Bradford,  trying  to  keep 
a  grave  face,  as  she  imagined  she  began  to  see 
into  the  cause  of  the  trouble*  She  need  not 
have  tried  to  hide  her  smiles.  Her  little 
daughter  buried  her  face  on  her  bosom,  as  she 
whispered  the,  to  her,  shocking  secret,  and 
never  once  looked  up  at  her  mother. 

"  Mamma,  —  he  —  he  —  kissed  her  !  —  he 
did  —  and  she  never  scolded  him,  not  a 
bit." 

Still  the   disturbed  little  face  was  hidden , 


206  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

and  mamma  waited  a  moment  till  she  could 
compose  her  own,  and  steady  her  voice. 

"  My  darling,"  she  said,  "  I  have  a  pleasant 
secret  to  tell  you.  You  love  dear  Aunt  Bes- 
sie very  much  ;  do  you  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mamma,  dearly,  dearly  ;  and,  mam- 
ma, she's  very  much  mine,  —  is  she  not?  — 
'cause  I'm  her  namesake  ;  and  Uncle  Yuthven 
ought  not  to  do  it.  He  had  no  yight.  Mamma, 
don't  you  think  papa  had  better  ask  him  to  go 
back  to  Africa  for  a  little  while  ?  " 

Bessie's  voice  was  rather  angry  now. 
Mamma  had  once  or  twice  lately  seen 
signs  of  a  little  jealous  feeling  toward  Un- 
cle Ruthven.  She,  Bessie  the  younger, 
thought  it  very  strange  that  Bessie  the 
elder  should  go  out  walking  or  driving 
so  often  with  Uncle  Ruthven,  or  that  they 
should  have  so  many  long  talks  together. 
Uncle  Ruthven  took  up  quite  too  much  of 
Aunt  Bessie's  time,  according  to  little  Bes- 
sie's thinking.  She  had  borne  it  pretty  well, 
however,  until  now  ;  but  that  Uncle  Ruthven 


Two  Surprises,  207 

should  "  make  so  intimate  "  as  to  kiss  Aunt 
Bessie,  was  the  last  drop  in  the  cup,  and  she 
was  displeased  as  well  as  distressed. 

"  And  if  papa  had  the  power,"  said  Mrs. 
Bradford,  "  would  my  Bessie  wish  Uncle 
Ruthven  sent  away  again,  and  so  grieve  dear 
grandmamma,  who  is  so  glad  to  have  him  at 
home  once  more,  to  say  nothing  of  his  other 
friends  ?  I  hope  my  dear  little  daughter  is 
not  giving  way  to  that  ugly,  hateful  feeling, 
jealousy." 

"  Oh!  I  hope  not,  mamma,"  said  Bessie.  "  1 
would  not  like  to  be  so  naughty.  And  if  you 
think  it's  being  jealous  not  to  like  Uncle  Yuth- 
ven  to  —  to  do  that,  I'll  try  not  to  mind  it  so 
much  ;  "  and  here  a  great  sob  escaped  her, 
and  a  tear  or  two  dropped  on  mamma's  hand. 

Mrs.  Bradford  thought  it  best  to  make 
haste  and  tell  her  the  secret. 

"  My  darling,"  she  said,  "  you  know,  though 
you  are  so  fond  of  dear  Aunt  Bessie,  she  is  not 
related  to  you,  —  not  really  your  aunt." 

"  Yes'ni,  but  then  I  love  her  just  as  much 


2oS  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

m 

as  if  she  was  my  very,  very  own.  I  have  to 
love  her  for  so  many  yeasons;  'cause  she  is 
her  own  self  and  I  can't  help  it,  and  'cause 
I'm  her  namesake,  and  'cause  she  's  my  dear 
soldier's  own  sister.  Mamma,  don't  you  think 
that  is  plenty  of  yeasons  to  be  fond  of  her 
for?" 

"Yes,  dear,  but  you  must  be  willing  to 
have  others  fond  of  her  too.  And  do  you  not 
think  it  would  be  very  pleasant  to  have  her  for 
your  own  aunt,  and  to  keep  her  always  with 
us  for  our  very  own  ? " 

"Oh,  yes,  mamma!  but  then  that  could 
not  be ;   could  it  ? " 

"Well,  yes,"  said  Mrs.  Bradford;  "if  Un- 
cle Euthven  marries  her,  she  will  really  be 
your  aunt,  and  then  she  will  live  at  grand- 
mamma's, where  you  may  see  her  almost 
every  day,  and  feel  she  is  quite  one  of  the 
family." 

"  And  is  he  going  to,  mamma  ? "  asked 
Bessie,  raising  her  head,  and  with  the  utmost 
surprise  and  pleasure  breaking  over  her  face; 


Two  Surprises.  209 

•'  is  Uncle  Yuthven  going  to  marry  her,  and 
make  her  our  true  aunt  ?  " 

'k  Yes,  I  believe  so,"  answered  her  mother  ; 
"  it  was  all  settled  a  few  days  ago.  We  did 
not  mean  to  tell  you  just  yet,  but  now  I 
thought  it  better.  But,  Bessie,  if  you  send 
poor  Uncle  Ruthven  away  to  Africa  again, 
I  fear  you  will  lose  Aunt  Bessie  too,  for  she 
will  go  with  him." 

"  I  was  naughty  to  say  that,  dear  mamma," 
said  Bessie,  her  whole  face  in  a  glow  of  delight, 
"  and  I  am  so  sorry  I  felt  cross  to  Uncle  Yuth- 
ven just  when  he  was  doing  us  such  a  great, 
great  favor.  Oh,  he  was  so  very  kind  to 
think  of  it !  He  has  been  trying  to  give  us 
pleasure  ever  since  he  came  home,  and  now  he 
has  done  the  very  best  thing  of  all.  He  knew 
just  what  we  would  like  ;  did  he  not,  mamma  ?  " 

Mamma  laughed.  "  I  rather  think  he  knew 
we  would  all  be  pleased,  Bessie." 

u  I  must  thank  him  very  much  indeed,  — 
must  I  not,  mamma  ?  —  and  tell  him  how  very 
obliging  I  think  he  is." 
14 


210  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

"  You  may  thank  him  just  as  much  as  you 
please,  dear,"  said  mamma,  merrily.  "  Here 
comes  Maggie  to  see  what  has  become  of  us. 
She  must  hear  this  delightful  secret  too." 

So  Maggie  was  told,  and  went  capering 
round  the  room  in  frantic  delight  at  the  news, 
inventing,  as  usual,  so  many  plans  and  pleas- 
ures that  might  fit  in  with  this  new  arrange- 
ment, that  Bessie  was  better  satisfied  than  ever, 
and  even  forgave  Uncle  Ruthven  the  kiss. 

And  here  was  a  second  joy  at  hand  ;  for  in 
came  a  message  from  Mrs.  Rush,  asking  that 
the  little  girls  might  come  over  to  the  hotel 
and  spend  the  rest  of  the  day  with  her  and 
the  colonel.  They  were  always  ready  enough 
for  this,  and  in  a  short  time  they  were  dressed 
and  on  their  way  with  Starr,  the  colonel's 
man,  who  had  come  for  them. 

Starr  was  a  soldier,  straight,  stiff,  and  very 
grave  and  respectful  in  his  manner ;  and  now, 
as  he  walked  along,  leading  a  little  girl  in  each 
hand,  they  wondered  to  see  how  very  smiling 
he  looked. 


Two  Surprises.  211 

"  Starr,"  said  Bessie,  peeping  up  in  his  face, 
"  have  you  some  good  news  ?  " 

"  I've  no  bad  news,  miss,"  said  Starr,  with 
a  broader  smile  than  before. 

"  You  look  so  very  pleased,"  said  Bessie  ; 
to  which  Starr  only  replied,  "  It's  likely, 
miss,"  and  became  silent  again. 

When  they  reached  the  long  crossing,  who 
should  be  standing  on  the  corner  but  Sergeant 
Richards.  Bessie  saw  him  at  once,  and  went 
directly  up  to  him. 

u  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Station  Policeman  ?  " 
she  said,  politely,  and  holding  out  her  morsel 
of  a  hand  to  him.     "  This  is  my  Maggie." 

u  Well,  now,  but  I'm  glad  to  see  you,  and 
your  Maggie  too,"  said  the  police-sergeant. 
"  And  how  have  you  been  this  long  time  ?  " 

"  Pretty  well,"  answered  Bessie.  "  How 
are  your  blind  boy  and  your  lame  wife  and 
your  sick  baby,  and  all  your  troubles  ?  " 

"  Why,  the  wife  is  able  to  move  round  a 
little,"  said  Richards,  "  and  the  baby  is  mend- 
ing a  bit  too." 


212  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

"  And  Willie  ?  "  asked  Bessie. 

A  shadow  came  over  the  policeman's  honest 
face.  "  Willie  is  drooping,"  he  said,  with  a 
sigh.  "  I  think  it's  the  loss  of  the  sight  of  his 
mother's  face  and  of  the  blessed  sunlight  that's 
ailing  him.  His  eyes  are  quite  blind  now,  — 
no  more  light  to  them  than  if  he  was  in  a 
pitch-dark  cell." 

"  But  I  thought  the  doctor  could  cure  him 
when  his  eyes  were  all  blind,"  said  Bessie. 

"  Not  just  now,  dear.  Next  year,  maybe, 
if  all  goes  well.  That's  the  best  we  can  hope 
for,  I  believe.  But  here  I  am  standing  and 
talking  to  you,  when  I've  business  on  hand  that 
can't  be  put  off."  So  saying,  he  shook  hands 
again  with  Bessie  and  walked  rapidly  away. 

"  I  s'pose  he  means  he  can't  afford  to  pay 
the  doctor  now,"  said  Bessie,  as  she  and  Mag- 
gie went  on  again  with  Starr.  "  Mrs.  Granby 
said  they  were  pretty  poor,  and  she  was  'fraid 
they  couldn't  do  it  this  year.  It's  so  long  for 
Willie  to  wait.  I  wonder  if  papa  wouldn't 
pay  the  doctor." 


Two  Surprises.  213 

"  There's  the  mistress  watching  for  the  lit- 
tle ladies,"  said  Starr,  and,  looking  up,  the 
children  saw  Mrs.  Ri\sh  standing  at  the  win- 
dow of  her  room  and  nodding  to  them.  In 
two  minutes  more  they  were  at  the  door, 
which  she  opened  for  them  with  even  a 
brighter  face  than  usual ;  and,  after  kissing 
them,  stood  aside  to  let  them  see  the  colonel, 
who  was  coming  forward  to  meet  them. 

Yes,  there  he  came,  and  —  no  wonder  Mrs. 
Rush  looked  bright  and  happy,  no  wonder 
Starr  was  smiling — without  his  crutches; 
moving  slowly,  to  be  sure,  and  leaning  on  a 
cane,  but  walking  on  two  feet ! 

If  Colonel  Rush  imagined  he  was  about  to 
give  his  little  friends  a  pleasant  surprise,  he 
found  he  was  not  mistaken. 

"  Oh !  "  exclaimed  Bessie,  but  it  was  in 
a  very  different  tone  from  that  in  which  she 
had  uttered  it  once  before  that  day. 

Maggie  gave  a  little  shriek  of  delight  whict 
would  almost  have  startled  any  one  who  had 
not  known  Maggie's  ways,  or  seen  her  spark 
ling  face. 


214  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

"  Oh  !  goody !  goody !  goody !  "  she  ex 
claimed,  clapping  her  hands  and  hopping 
about  in  a  kind  of  ecstasy.  "  How  lovely ! 
how  splendid  !  how  —  how  —  superfluous  !  " 
Maggie  had  been  trying  to  find  the  longest1 
"  grown-up  "  word  she  could  think  of,  and  as 
she  had  that  morning  heard  her  father  say 
that  something  was  "  altogether  superfluous," 
she  now  used  the  word  without  a  proper  idea 
of  its  meaning. 

But  the  colonel  was  quite  content  to  take 
the  word  as  she  meant  it,  and  thanked  her  for 
her  joyous  sympathy.  He  knew  that  Bessie 
felt  none  the  less  because  she  was  more  quiet. 
She  walked  round  and  round  him,  looking  at 
him  as  if  she  could  not  believe  it,  and  then 
going  up  to  him,  took  his  hand  in  both  hers, 
and  laid  her  smooth,  soft  cheek  upon  it  in 
a  pretty,  tender  way  which  said  more  than 
words. 

"  Do  let's  see  you  walk  a  little  more,"  said 
Maggie.  "  It's  so  nice ;  it's  just  like  a  fairy 
tale,  when  a  good  fairy  comes  and  mends  all 


Two  Surprises.  215 

the  people  that  have  been  chopped  to  pieces, 
and  makes  them  just  as  good  as  ever ;  only 
this  is  true  and  that  is  not.', 

"  Who  put  it  on  ?  "  asked  Bessie,  meaning 
the  new  leg. 

"  Starr  put  it  on,"  answered  the  colonel. 

"  And    did    you   make  it,    too,    Starr  ? " 
asked  Bessie. 

"  No,  indeed,  miss ;  "  said  Starr,  who  still 
stood  at  the  door  with  his  hat  in  his  hand, 
and  his  head  on  one  side,  looking  at  his  mas- 
ter much  as  a  proud  nurse  might  look  at  her 
baby  who  was  trying  its  first  steps,  —  "  no,  in- 
deed, miss  ;  that  was  beyond  me." 

"  Starr  would  have  given  me  one  of  his  own, 
if  he  could  have  done  so,  I  believe,"  said  the 
colonel,  smiling. 

"  So  would  1,"  said  Maggie,  "  if  mine  would 
have  fitted.  I  think  I  could  do  very  well  with 
one  foot;  I  hop  a  good  deal,  any  way.  See,  I 
could  do  this  way  ; "  and  she  began  hopping 
round  the  table  again. 

"  And  you  run  and  skip  a  good  deal,"  said 


216  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

Mrs.  Rush,  "  and  how  could  you  do  all  that 
on  one  foot  ?  " 

Maggie  considered  a  moment.  u  But  I  am 
very  attached  to  the  colonel,"  she  said,  "  and  I 
think  I  could  give  up  one  foot  if  it  would  be 
of  use  to  him." 

"  I  believe  you  would,  my  generous  little 
girl,"  said  the  colonel ;  and  Mrs.  Rush  stooped 
and  kissed  Maggie  very  affectionately. 

"  Will  that  new  foot  walk  in  the  street  ?  " 
asked  Maggie. 

"  Yes,  it  will  walk  anywhere  when  I'm  ac- 
customed to  it.  But  I  am  a  little  awkward 
just  yet,  and  must  practise  some  before  I  ven- 
ture on  it  in  the  street." 

It  seemed  almost  too  good  to  be  true,  that 
the  colonel  should  be  sitting  there  with  two 
feet,  which  certainly  looked  quite  as  well  as 
papa's  or  Uncle  Ruthven's,  or  those  of  any 
other  gentleman  ;  and  it  was  long  before  his 
affectionate  little  friends  tired  of  looking  at 
him  and  expressing  their  pleasure. 

"  We  have  some  very  good  news  for  you," 


Two  Surprises,  217 

said  Bessie ;  "  mamma  said  we  might  tell 
you." 

"  Let  us  have  it  then,"  said  the  colonel ; 
and  the  grand  secret  about  Uncle  Ruthven 
and  Aunt  Bessie  was  told. 

"  I  just  believe  you  knew  it  before,"  said 
Maggie,  who  thought  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Rush 
did  not  seem  as  much  surprised  as  was  to  be 
expected. 

"  I  am  afraid  we  did,  Maggie,"  said  the 
colonel,  smiling ;  "  but  we  are  none  the  less 
pleased  to  hear  Bessie  tell  of  it." 

"  But  if  Uncle  Yuthven  did  it  for  a  favor 
to  us,  why  did  he  not  tell  us  first  ?  "  said 
Bessie,  rather  puzzled. 

"  Well,"  said  the  colonel,  with  a  little 
twinkle  in  his  eye,  "  it  is  just  possible  that 
your  Uncle  Ruthven  took  some  other  people 
into  consideration,  —  myself  and  Marion,  for 
instance.  Can  you  not  imagine  that  he 
thought  it  would  be  very  pleasant  for  us  to 
be  related  to  you  ?  " 

"Will  you  be  our  yelations  when  Uncle 
Yuthven  marries  Aunt  Bessie  ?  "  asked  Bessie- 


218  Bessie  and  her   Friends. 

"  I  think  we  shall  have  to  put  in  some  claim 
of  that  sort,"  said  the  colonel.  "  Aunt  Bessie 
is  my  sister,  and  if  she  becomes  your  own 
aunt,  I  think  my  wife  and  I  must  also  con- 
sider ourselves  as  belonging  to  the  family. 
What  should  you  say  to  Uncle  Horace  and 
Aunt  May?"  —  May  was  the  colonel's  pet 
name  for  his  wife. 

It  was  not  likely  that  either  of  our  little 
girls  would  find  fault  with  this  arrangement ; 
and  now  it  was  impossible  to  say  too  much  in 
praise  of  Uncle  Ruthven  and  his  very  kind 
plan. 

The  children  spent  a  most  delightful  day. 
Mrs.  Rush  had  ordered  an  early  dinner  for 
them ;  after  which  the  carriage  came,  and  all 
four  —  the  colonel  and  his  wife  and  Maggie 
and  Bessie — went  for  a  drive  in  the  Central 
Park.  It  was  a  lovely  afternoon,  the  air  so 
soft  and  sweet  with  that  strange,  delicious 
scent  in  it  which  tells  of  the  coming  spring, 
and  here  and  there,  in  some  sunny  nooks,  the 
children  were  delighted  to  see  little  patches 


Two  Surprises.  219 

of  green  grass.  Sparrows  and  chickadees, 
and  other  birds  which  make  their  home  with 
us  during  the  winter,  were  hopping  merrily 
over  the  leafless  branches,  and  twittering 
ceaselessly  to  one  another,  as  if  they  were  tell- 
ing of  the  happy  time  near  at  hand,  when  the 
warm  south  winds  would  blow,  and  the  trees 
and  bushes  be  covered  with  their  beautiful 
green  summer  dress.  Presently  Starr,  turn- 
ing round  from  his  seat  on  the  box  beside  the 
coachman,  pointed  out  a  robin,  the  first  robin ; 
and  then  Maggie's  quick  eyes  discovered  .a 
second.  Yes,  there  were  a  pair  of  them,  perk- 
ing up  their  heads  and  tails,  with  a  saucy, 
jaunty  air,  which  seemed  to  say,  "  Look  at  me  ; 
here  I  am  to  tell  you  spring  is  coming.  Are 
you  not  glad  to  see  me  ?  " 

And  as  the  carriage  drove  slowly  by,  that 
the  children  might  watch  the  birds,  one  of 
them  threw  back  his  head  and  broke  into  the 
sweetest,  merriest  song,  which  told  the  same 
pleasant  story. 

Yes,  spring  was  in   the  air,  and  the  birdies 


220  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

knew  it,  though  earth  as  yet  showed  but  few 
signs  of  it. 

"He  sings  just  as  if  he  was  so  glad  he 
couldn't  help  it,"  said  Maggie,  "  and  I  feel 
just  like  him." 

When  they  drove  back  to  the  city,  the 
children  were  rather  surprised  to  find  they 
were  taken  again  to  the  hotel  instead  of  going 
home  at  Once ;  but  Mrs.  Rush  said,  that  as  the 
weather  was  so  mild  and  pleasant,  mamma  had 
promised  they  might  stay  till  after  dark.  This 
was  a  suitable  ending  to  such  a  very  happy 
day,  especially  as  it  was  arranged  for  them  to 
take  their  supper  while  their  friends  dined. 
Mrs.  Rush  thought  nothing  too  much  trouble 
which  could  give  pleasure  to  these  two  dear 
little  girls. 

They  were  listening  to  one  of  the  colonel's 
delightful  stories  when  Mr.  Stanton  and  Miss 
Rush  came  in,  with  the  double  purpose  of  pay- 
ing a  short  visit  to  the  colonel  and  his  wife 
and  of  taking  home  their  young  visitors. 

Scarcely    were    they    seated    when   Bessie 


Two  Surprises.  221 

walked  up  to  Mr.  Stanton  with  "  Uncle  Er-er- 
er-Yuthven," —  Bessie  was  trying  very  hard 
for  the  r's  in  these  days,  especially  when  she 
spoke  to  her  uncle,  —  "  we  do  thank  you  so 
very  much.  We  think  you  are  the  most 
obliging  gentleman  we  ever  saw." 

"  Really,"  said  Uncle  Ruthven,  gravely, 
"  this  is  very  pleasant  to  hear.  May  I  ask 
who  are  the  '  we '  who  have  such  a  very  high 
opinion  of  me  ?  " 

"Why,  mamma  and  the  colonel  and  Mrs. 
Yush  and  Maggie  and  I ;  and  I  s'pose  all  the 
fam'ly  who  know  what  a  very  great  favor  you 
are  going  to  do  for  us." 

"  And  what  is  this  wonderful  favor  ?  "  asked 
Mr.  Stanton. 

"  To  marry  Aunt  Bessie,  so  she  will  be 
quite  our  very  own,"  answered  the  little  girl. 
"  And  then  you  see  that  makes  my  soldier 
and  Mrs.  Yush  our  own  too.  They  are  Uncle 
Horace  and  Aunt  May  now,  for  the  colonel 
said  we  might  as  well  begin  at  once.  We  are 
all  very,    very   pleased,  Uncle   Yuthven,  and 


222  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

Maggie  and  I  think  you  are  the  kindest  uncle 
that  ever  lived." 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  found  that  out  at 
last,"  said  Uncle  Ruthven.  "  Here  I  have 
been  living  for  your  happiness  ever  since  I 
came  home,  and  if  I  had  made  this  last  sacri- 
fice without  your  finding  out  that  I  am  the 
best  and  most  generous  uncle  in  the  world,  it 
would  have  been  terrible  indeed." 

"  I  don't  believe  you  think  it  is  a  sacrifice," 
said  Maggie.  "  I  guess  you  like  it  'most  as 
well  as  Bessie  and  I  do." 

"Does  he,  Aunt  Bessie  ?  "  asked  little  Bes- 
sie, in  a  tone  as  if  this  could  not  be ;  at  which 
Uncle  Ruth ven's  gravity  gave  way,  and  the 
older  people  all  laughed  heartily,  though  the 
children  could  not  see  why. 

If  Bessie  had  known  how  to  express  her 
feelings,  she  would  have  said  that  it  was  Un- 
cle Ruthven's  manner  when  he  was  joking 
which  caused  her  to  "  have  objections "  to 
him.  When  Uncle  John  was  joking,  he  iiad 
such  a  merry  face  that  it  was  quite  easy  to  see 


Two  Surprises. 


223 


what  he  meant ;  -but  Uncle  Ruthven  always 
kept  such  a  sober  face  and  tone  that  it  was 
hard  to  tell  whether  he  were  in  earnest  or  no. 
And  now,  when  he  caught  her  up  in  his  arms, 
and  stood  her  upon  the  mantelpiece,  she  felt  as 
if  she  still  only  half  approved  of  him  ;  but  it 
was  not  in  her  heart  to  find  fault  with  him 
just  now,  and  she  readily  put  up  her  lips  for 
the  kiss  which  she  knew  he  would  claim  be« 
fore  he  let  her  go. 


XL 


BLIND    WILLIE. 


AGGIE  and  Bessie,"  said  Mrs.  Brad- 
ford, one  day  soon  after  this,  "  I  am 
going  to  send  Jane  over  with  some 
work  to  Mrs.  Granby.  Would  you  like  to  go 
with  her  and  see  the  policeman's  children  ?  " 

Bessie  answered  "  Yes,"  readily  enough, 
but  though  Maggie  would  have  liked  the  long 
walk  on  this  lovely  day,  she  was  rather  doubt- 
ful of  the  pleasure  of  calling  on  those  who 
were  entire  strangers  to  her.  But  after  some 
little  coaxing  from  Bessie,  who  said  she  would 
not  go  without  her,  she  was  at  last  persuaded, 
and  they  set  out  with  Jane,  taking  Flossy  with 
them. 

The  children  had  their  hooples,  which  they 
trundled  merrily  before  them  and  Flossy  went 


Blind   Willie.  225 

capering  joyously  along,  sometimes  running 
ahead,  for  a  short  distance,  and  then  rushing 
back  to  his  little  mistresses,  and  if  any  rough 
boys  made  their  appearance,  keeping  very  close 
at  their  side  till  all  danger  was  past.  For  since 
Flossy  was  stolen,  he  had  been  very  careful  as 
to  the  company  he  kept,  and  looked  with  a 
very  suspicious  eye  upon  any  one  who  wore 
a  ragged  coat,  which  was  not  very  just  of 
Flossy,  since  a  ragged  coat  may  cover  as  true 
and  honest  a  heart  as  ever  beat ;  but  as  the 
poor  puppy  knew  no  better,  and  had  received 
some  hard  treatment  at  the  hands  of  those 
whose  miserable  garments  covered  hard  and 
cruel  hearts,  he  -must  be  excused  for  thinking 
that  the  one  was  a  sign  of  the  other. 

Flossy  had  turned  out  quite  as  pretty  a 
little  dog  as  he  had  promised  to  be.  His 
coat  was  long,  soft,  and  silky,  and  beautifully 
marked  in  brown  and  white  ;  his  drooping 
ears  hung  gracefully  on  each  side  of  his  head, 
while  his  great  black  eyes  were  so  knowing 
and  affectionate  that  it  was  hard  to  believe  no 

15 


226  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

soul  looked  out  of  them.  It  was  no  wonder 
that  almost  every  child  they  passed  turned  to 
take  a  second  look,  and  to  wish  that  they,  too, 
had  such  a  pretty  merry  pet.  Flossy  was  in 
great  favor  that  day  on  account  of  a  droll 
trick  which  he  had  played,  much  to  the 
amusement  of  the  children.  Harry  and  Fred 
were  very  anxious  to  teach  him  all  manner  of 
things,  such  as  standing  on  his  head,  pretend- 
ing to  be  dead,  and  so  forth  ;  but  Maggie  and 
Bessie  declared  he  was  too  young  to  be  taught 
anything  except  "  to  be  good  and  polite/' 
and  would  not  have  him  teased.  Beside,  he 
had  funny  tricks  and  ways  of  his  own  which 
they  thought  much  better  than  those,  and  was 
as  full  of  play  and  mischief  as  a  petted  doggie 
could  be. 

Harry  had  a  weak  ankle,  which  in  his  boy- 
ish frolics  he  was  constantly  hurting,  and 
now,  having  given  it  a  slight  sprain,  he  was 
laid  up  on  the  sofa.  On  the  day  before  this, 
his  dinner  had  been  sent  to  him,  but  as  it  did 
not  exactly  suit   him,  he  called   Flossy,  and 


Blind   Willie.  227 

writing  on  a  piece  of  paper  what  he  desired, 
gave  it  to  the  dog,  and  told  him  to  take  it  to 
mamma.  He  was  half  doubtful  if  the  crea- 
ture would  understand  ;  but  Flossy  ran  di- 
rectly to  the  dining-room  with  the  paper  in 
his  mouth,  and  gave  it  to  Mrs.  Bradford.  As 
a  reward  for  doing  his  errand  so  well,  she 
gave  him  a  piece  of  cake,  although  it  was 
against  her  rules  that  he  should  be -fed  from 
the  table. 

On  this  day,  Harry  had  been  able  to  come 
down-stairs  ;  and  while  the  children  were  at 
their  dinner,  Flossy  was  heard  whining  at  the 
door.  Patrick  opened  it,  and  in  he  ran  with 
a  crumpled  piece  of  paper,  on  which  Franky 
had  been  scribbling,  in  his  mouth,  and  going 
to  Mrs.  Bradford  held  it  up  to  her,  wagging 
his  tail  with  an  air  which  said  quite  plainly, 
"  Here  is  your  paper,  now  give  me  my  cake." 

"  Poor  little  doggie  !  He  did  not  know 
why  one  piece  of  paper  was  not  as  good  as 
another,  and  Mrs.  Bradford  could  not  refuse 
him,   while  all   the  children    wore  quite    de- 


228  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

lighted  with  his  wisdom,  and  could  not  make 
enough  of  him  for  the  remainder  of  the  day. 

Maggie  and  Bessie  were  rather  surprised 
at  the  appearance  of  the  policeman's  house. 
It  was  so  different  from  those  which  stood 
around  it,  or  from  any  which  they  were  accus- 
tomed to  see  in  the  city  ;  but  it  looked  very 
pleasant  to  them  with  its  green  shutters,  old- 
fashioned  porch,  and  the  little  courtyard  and 
great  butternut  tree  in  front.  The  small  plot 
of  grass  behind  the  white  palings  was  quite 
green  now,  and  some  of  the  buds  on  the 
hardier  bushes  were  beginning  to  unfold  their 
young  leaves.  Altogether  it  looked  very  nice 
and  homelike,  none  the  less  so  that  Jennie 
Bichards  and  her  three  younger  brothers  were 
playing  around,  and  digging  up  the  fresh 
moist  earth,  with  the  fancy  that  they  were 
making  a  garden.  But  their  digging  was  for- 
gotten when  they  saw  Jane  with  her  littlo 
charge. 

"  Does  Mrs.  Granby  live  here  ? "  asked 
Jane,  unlatching  the  gate. 


Blind    Willie.  229 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  answered  Jennie.  "  Will 
you  please  to  walk  in  ?  "  and  opening  the 
doors,  Jennie  showed  the  visitors  into  the  sit- 
ting-room. 

Mrs.  Richards  sat  sewing,  with  Willie,  as 
usual,  beside  her,  rocking  ceaselessly  back 
and  forth  in  his  little  chair  ;  while  good  Mrs. 
Granby,  who  had  been  seated  close  by  the 
window,  and  had  seen  Jane  and  the  children 
come  in,  was  bustling  about,  placing  chairs  for 
them. 

On  Willie's  knee  was  a  Maltese  kitten  purr- 
ing away  contentedly  ;  but  the  moment  she 
caught  sight  of  Flossy,  she  sprang  from  her 
resting-place,  and,  scampering  into  a  corner, 
put  up  her  back,  and  began  spitting  and  hiss- 
ing in  a  very  impolite  manner.  If  Miss  Pussy 
had  been  civil,  Flossy  would  probably  have 
taken  no  notice  of  her ;  but  when  she  drew 
attention  upon  herself  by  this  very  rude  be- 
havior, he  bogan  to  bark  and  jump  about 
her,  more  with  a  love  of  teasing  than  with  any 
idea  of  hurting  her.     It  was  quite  a  moment 


230  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

or  two  before  these  enemies  could  be  quieted, 
and  then  it  was  only  done  by  Maggie  catching 
up  Flossy  in  her  arms,  and  Mrs.  Granby 
thrusting  the  kitten  into  a  bureau  drawer 
with  a  cuff  on  its  ear. 

The  commotion  being  over,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  an  occasional  spit  from  the  drawer, 
as  if  kitty  were  still  conscious  of  the  presence 
of  her  foe,  Bessie  walked  up  to  Mrs.  Rich- 
ards, and  politely  holding  out  her  hand,  said, 
"  We  came  to  see  you  and  your  fam'ly,  ma'am, 
and  we're  sorry  to  make  such  a  'sturbance.'' 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Richards,  smiling  at 
what  she  afterwards  called  Bessie's  old-fash- 
ioned ways,  —  "  well,  I  think  it  was  the  kitten 
was  to  blame  for  the  disturbance,  not  you,  nor 
your  pretty  dog  there  ;  and  I'm  sure  we're  all 
glad  to  see  you,  dear.  Are  you  the  little  girl 
that  was  lost  and  taken  up  to  the  station?  " 

"  Yes,  I  am,"  said  Bessie  ;  "  but  I  was  not 
taken  up  'cause  I  was  naughty,  but  'cause  I 
could  not  find  my  way  home.  Is  my  police- 
man pretty  well  ?  " 


Blind   Willi e.  231 

"He's  very  well,  thank  you,  dear ;  but  he'll 
be  mighty  sorry  to  hear  you've  been  here,  and, 
he  not  home  to  see  you." 

"  Mother,"  said  Willie,  "  what  a  sweet  voice 
that  little  girl  has !  Will  she  let  me  touch 
her  ?  " 

"  Would  you,  dear  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Richards  ; 
"you  see  it's  the  only  way  he  has  now  of 
finding  what  anybody  is  like." 

"  Oh !  he  may  touch  me  as  much  as  he 
likes,"  said  Bessie,  and  coming  close  to  the 
blind  boy,  she  put  her  hand  in  his,  and  waited 
patiently  while  he  passed  his  fingers  up  her 
arm  and  shoulder,  then  over  her  curls,  cheek, 
and  chin ;  for  Willie  Richards  was  already 
gaining  that  quick  sense  of  touch  which  God 
gives  to  the  blind. 

The  mother's  heart  was  full  as  she  watched 
the  two  children,  and  saw  the  tender,  pitying 
gaze  Bessie  bent  upon  her  boy. 

"  Poor  Willie  ! "  said  the  little  girl,  putting 
her  arm  about  his  neck,  "  I  am  so  sorry  for 
you.  But  perhaps  our  Father  will  let  you  see 
again  some  day." 


232  Bessie  and  her  friends. 

u  I  don't  know,"  said  Willie,  sadly  ;  "  they 
used  to  say  I  would  be  better  when  the  spring 
came,  but  the  spring  is  here  now,  and  it  is  no 
lighter.     Oh,  it  is  so  very,  very  dark  !  " 

Bessie's  lip  quivered,  and  the  tears  gathered 
in  her  eyes  as  she  raised  them  to  Mrs.  Rich- 
ards. But  Mrs.  Richards  turned  away  her 
head.  She  sometimes  thought  that  Willie  had 
guessed  that  the  doctor  had  had  hopes  of 
curing  them  in  the  spring,  but  she  had  not 
the  courage  to  ask  him.  Nor  could  she  and 
his  father  bear  to  excite  hopes  which  might 
again  be  disappointed,  by  telling  him  to  wait 
with  patience  till  next  year. 

But  Bessie  did  not  know  what  made  Mrs. 
Richards  silent,  and  wondering  that  she  did 
not  speak,  she  felt  as  if  she  must  herself  say 
something  to  comfort  him. 

"  But  maybe  next  spring  you  will  see, 
Willie,"  she  said. 

"Maybe  so,"  said  Willie,  piteously,  "  but  it 
is  so  long  to  wait." 

Bessie  was  silent  for  a  moment,  not  quite 


Blind   Willie.  233 

knowing  what  to  say  ;  then  she  spoke  again. 
"  Wouldn't  you  liko  to  come  out  and  feel 
the  spring,  Willie?  It  is  nice  out  to-day  and 
the  wind  is  so  pleasant  and  warm." 

"  No,"  answered  Willie,  almost  impatiently, 
"  I  only  want  to  stay  here  with  mother.  I 
know  it  feels  nice  out ;  but  the  children  come 
and  say,  '  See  the  sky,  how  blue  it  is  ! '  and  'Look 
at  this  flower,'  when  I  can't  see  them,  and  it 
makes  me  feel  so  bad,  so  bad.  I  know  the 
grass  is  green  and  the  sky  is  blue,  and  the 
crocuses  and  violets  are  coming  out  just  as 
they  used  to  when  I  could  see,  but  I  don't 
want  them  to  tell  me  of  it  all  the  time  ;  and 
they  forget,  and  it  makes  me  feel  worse.  But 
I  wouldn't  mind  the  rest  so  much  if  I  could 
only  see  mother's  face  just  a  little  while  every 
day,  then  I  would  be  good  and  patient  all  the 
time.  Oh !  if  I  only  could  see  her,  just  a 
moment ! " 

"  Don't,  don't,  sonny,"  said  his  mother,  lay- 
ing her  hand  lovingly  on  his  head. 

It  was  the  ceaseless  burden  of  his  plaintive 


234  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

song,  —  "  If  I  only  could  seem  other's  face  I 
If  I  only  could  see  mother's  face  !  " 

"  And  maybe  you  will  some  day,  Willie," 
said  Bessie ;  "  so  try  to  think  about  that,  and 
how  she  loves  you  just  the  same  even  if  you 
don't  see  her.  And  don't  you  like  to  know 
the  blue  sky  is  there,  and  that  Jesus  is  be- 
hind it,  looking  at  you  and  feeling  sorry  for 
you  ?  None  of  us  can  see  Jesus,  but  we  know 
he  sees  us  and  loves  us  all  the  same ;  don't 
we  ?  Couldn't  you  feel  a  little  that  way  about 
your  mother,  Willie  ?  " 

"  I'll  try,"  said  Willie,  with  the  old  patient 
smile  comins;  back  a°'ain. 

Poor  Willie  !  It  was  not  usual  for  him  to 
be  impatient  or  fretful.  But  he  had  been 
sadly  tried  that  day  in  the  way  he  had  spoken 
of,  and  the  longing  for  his  lost  sight  was 
almost  too  great  to  be  borne.  But  now  Mrs. 
Granby,  suspecting  something  of  what  was 
going  on  on  that  side  of  the  room,  came  bus- 
tling up  to  Willie  and  Bessie,  bringing  Maggie 
with  her.     Maggie  had  been  making  acquaint- 


Blind    Willie.  235 

ance  with  Jennie  while  Bessie  was  talking  with 
the  blind  boy. 

"  Willie,"  said  Mrs.  Granby,  "  here's  just 
the  prettiest  little  dog  that  ever  lived,  and 
he  is  as  tame  and  gentle  as  can  be.  If  Miss 
Maggie  don't  object,  maybe  he'd  lie  a  bit  on 
your  knee,  and  let  you  feel  his  nice  long  ears 
and  silken  hair." 

"  Yes,  take  him,"  said  Maggie,  putting  her 
dog  into  Willie's  arms. 

Flossy  was  not  usually  very  willing  to  go  to 
strangers ;  but  now,  perhaps,  his  doggish  in- 
stinct told  him  that  this  poor  boy  had  need  of 
pity  and  kindness.  However  that  was,  he  lay 
quietly  in  Willie's  clasp,  and  looking  wist- 
fully into  his  sightless  eyes,  licked  his  hands 
and  face. 

Maggie  and  Bessie  were  delighted,  and  be- 
gan to  tell  Willie  of  Flossy's  cunning  ways. 
The  other  children  gathered  about  to  listen 
and  admire  too,  and  presently  Willie  laughed 
outright  as  they  told  of  his  cute  trick  with  the 
crumpled  paper. 


236  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

And  now,  whether  Miss  Kitty  saw  through 
the  crack  of  the  drawer  that  her  young  rnas- 
ter  was  fondling  a  new  pet,  or  whether  she 
only  guessed  at  it,  or  whether  she  thought  it 
hard  that  fun  should  be  going  on  in  which  she 
had  no  share,  cannot  be  told  ;  but  just  then 
there  came  from  her  prison-place  such  a  hiss 
ing  and  sputtering  and  scratching  that  every 
one  of  the  children  set  up  a  shout  of  laughter. 
Not  since  his  blindness  came  upon  him  had  his 
mother  heard  Willie's  voice  sound  so  gleeful, 
and  now  in  her  heart  she  blessed  the  dear 
little  girl  who  she  felt  had  done  him  good. 
Then  as  the  children  begged  for  her,  kitty  was 
released  ;  but  as  she  still  showed  much  ill-tem- 
per, Mrs.  Granby  was  obliged  to  put  her  in 
the  other  room. 

Soon  after  this  our  little  girls,  with  their 
nurse,  took  leave,  having  presented  Willie 
with  a  new  book,  and  his  mother  with  some 
useful  things  mamma  had  sent,  and  giving 
Willie  and  Jennie  an  invitation  to  come  and 
see  them. 


Blind   Willie.  237 

They  did  not  go  back  as  joyfully  as  they  had 
come.  Somehow,  in  spite  of  the  good  laugh 
they  had  had,  the  thought  of  blind  Willie 
made  them  feel  sad,  and  giving  Jane  their 
hooples  to  carry,  they  walked  quietly  by  her 
side,  hand  in  hand. 

Bessie  was  half  heart-broken  as  she  told  her 
mamma  of  the  blind  boy's  longing  to  see  his 
mother's  face,  and  neither  she  nor  Maggie 
quite  recovered  their  usual  spirits  for  the  re- 
mainder of  the  day.  Mamma  was  almost 
sorry  she  had  allowed  them  to  go. 

"  And  what  makes  my  princess  so  sad  this 
evening  ?  "  asked  Uncle  Ruthven,  lifting  Bes- 
sie upon  his  knee. 

u  Don't  you  think  you'd  be  very  sad,  sir,  if 
you  were  blind  ?  " 

"  Doubtless  I  should,  dear.  I  think,  of  all 
my  senses,  my  sight  is  the  one  I  prize  most, 
and  for  which  I  am  most  thankful.  But  you 
are  not  going  to  lose  your  sight;  are  you, 
Bessie  ? " 

"  No,"  said  Bessie ;  "  but  Willie  Richards 


238  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

has  lost  Ins.  He  is  quite,  quite  blind,  uncle, 
and  can't  see  his  mother's  face ;  and  they 
can't  let  the  doctor  cure  him,  'cause  they  are 
too  poor.  Maggie  and  I  wished  to  help  them 
very  much,  and  we  wanted  to  ask  them  to 
take  all  the  glove-money  we  have,  —  that  is 
what  mamma  lets  us  have  to  do  charity  with, 
—  but  mamma  says  it  would  not  be  much 
help,  and  she  thinks  we  had  better  keep  it  to 
buy  some  little  thing  Willie  may  need.  And 
we  are  very  grieved  for  him." 

"  Poor  little  princess !  "  said  Mr.  Stanton. 
"  And  why  did  you  not  come  to  me  for  help  ? 
What  is  the  good  of  having  an  old  uncle  with 
plenty  of  money  in  his  pockets,  if  you  do  not 
make  him  c  do  charity '  for  you  ?  Let  me  see. 
How  comes  on  the  history  of  the  '  Complete 
Family,'  Maggie  ?  " 

"  Oh !  it's  'most  finished,"  said  Maggie. 
"  At  least,  that  book  is  ;  but  we  are  going  to 
have  another  volume.  Mamma  likes  us  to 
write  it.  She  says  it  is  good  practice,  and 
will  make  it  easy  for  us  to  write  compositions 
by  and  by." 


Blind   Willie.  239 

«  Very  sensible  of  mamma,"  said  Mr.  Stan- 
ton. "  But  I  think  you  said  you  wished  to 
sell  it  when  it  was  finished,  so  that  you  might 
help  the  poor." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Well,  you  know  I  am  going  away  to-mor- 
row morning,  —  going  to  take  Aunt  Bessie  to 
Baltimore  to  see  her  sister.  We  shall  be  gone 
about  a  week.  If  your  book  is  finished  when 
we  come  home,  I  shall  see  if  I  cannot  find 
a  purchaser  for  it.  And  you  might  use  the 
money  for  the  blind  boy  if  you  like." 

Just  at  this  moment  nurse  put  her  head  in 
at  the  door  with  "  Come  along,  my  honeys. 
Your  mamma  is  waiting  up-stairs  for  you, 
and  it's  your  bed-time." 

"  In  one  instant,  mammy,"  said  Mr.  Stan- 
ton. "  Is  it  a  bargain,  little  ones  ?  If  I  find 
a  man  to  buy  your  book,  will  you  have  it 
ready,  and  trust  it  to  me,  when  I  come 
back  ?  " 

The  children  were  willing  enough  to  agree 
to  this ;  and  Maggie  only  wished  that  it  was 


240  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

not  bed-time,  so  that  she  might  finish  the 
book  that  very  night.  Uncle  Ruthven  said 
they  would  talk  more  about  it  when  he  re- 
turned, and  bade  them  "  Good-night." 

"  My  darlings,"  said  mamma,  when  they 
went  up-stairs,  u  I  do  not  want  you  to  distress 
yourselves  about  blind  Willie.  When  the  time 
comes  for  the  doctor  to  perform  the  operation 
on  his  eyes,  I  think  the  means  will  be  found 
to  pay  him.  But  you  are  not  to  say  anything 
about  it  at  present.  I  only  tell  you  because  I 
do  not  like  to  see  you  unhappy." 

"Are  you  or  papa  going  to  do  it,  mamma  ?  " 
asked  Bessie. 

"  We  shall  see,"  said  Mrs.  Bradford,  with  a 
smile. 

"  Perhaps  we  can  help  you  a  little,"  said 
Maggie,  joyfully ;  and  she  told  her  mother  of 
her  uncle's  proposal  about  the  book. 


XII. 


MAGGIE'S  BOOK. 


NCLE  RUTHVEN  and  Aunt  Bessie 
went  away  the  next  morning,  and 
were  gone  nearly  a  week,  and  very 
much  did  the  children  miss  them,  especially 
as  the  week  proved  one  of  storm  and  rain,  and 
they  were  shut  up  in  the  house. 

During  all  this  stormy  weather  Aunt  Patty 
seemed  very  anxious  to  go  out,  watching  for 
the  first  glimpse  of  sunshine.  But  none  came, 
and  at  last,  one  morning  when  there  was  a 
fine,  drizzling  rain,  she  came  down  dressed 
for  a  walk.  Mrs.  Bradford  was  much  aston- 
ished, for  Mrs.  Lawrence  was  subject  to  rheu- 
matism, and  it  was  very  imprudent  for  her  to 
go  out  in  the  damp.  In  vain  did  Mrs.  Brad- 
ford offer  to  send  a  servant  on  any  errand  she 
16 


242  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

might  wish  to  have  done.  Aunt  Patty  would 
not  listen  to  it  for  a  moment,  nor  would  she 
allow  a  carriage  to  be  sent  for,  nor  tell  where 
she  was  going. 

She  stayed  a  long  time,  and  when  the  boys 
ran  home  from  school  in  the  midst  of  a  hard 
shower,  they  were  surprised  to  meet  her  just 
getting  out  of  a  carriage  which  had  drawn  up 
around  the  corner.  Aunt  Patty  did  not  seem 
at  all  pleased  to  see  them,  and  in  answer  to 
their  astonished  inquiries,  "  Why,  Aunt  Pat- 
ty !  where  have  you  been  ?  "  and  "  Why  don't 
you  let  the  carriage  leave  you  at  the  house  ?  " 
answered,  sharply,  "  When  I  was  young,  old 
people  could  mind  their  own  affairs  without 
help  from  school-boys." 

"  Not  without  help  from  school-g^Ws,  when 
she  was  around,  I  guess,"  whispered  Fred  to 
his  brother,  as  they  fell  behind,  and  let  the 
old  lady  march  on. 
I  Nor  was  she  more  satisfactory  when  she 
reached  home,  and  seemed  only  desirous  to 
avoid  Mrs.  Bradford's  kind  inquiries  and  anx- 


Maggie's  Book.  24? 

iety  lest  she  should  have  taken  colli.  This  wa? 
rather  strange,  for  it  was  not  Aunt  Patty's  waj 
to  be  mysterious,  and  she  was  generally  quite 
ready  to  let  her  actions  be  seen  by  the  whole 
world.  But  certainly  no  one  would  have 
guessed  from  her  manner  that  she  had  that 
morning  been  about  her  Master's  work. 

Uncle  Ruthven  and  Aunt  Bessie  came  home 
that  afternoon,  and  found  no  reason  to  doubt 
their  welcome. 

"  We're  very  glad  to  see  you,  Uncle  Er-er 
jRuthven,"  said  Bessie,  bringing  out  the  B 
quite  clearly. 

"  Hallo  !  "  said  her  uncle,  "  so  you  have 
come  to  it  at  last ;  have  you  ?  You  have  been 
learning  to  talk  English  while  I  was  away. 
Pretty  well  for  my  princess !  What  reward 
shall  I  give  you  for  that  iJuthven  ?  " 

"  I  don't  want  a  reward,"  said  the  little 
princess,  gayly.  "  I  tried  to  learn  it  'cause  1 
thought  you  wanted  me  to  ;  and  you  are  so 
kind  to  us  I  wanted  to  please  you.  Besides,  1 
am  growing  pretty  old,  and   I  ought   to  learn 


244  Bessie  and  her  F  'ends. 

to  talk  plain.  Why,  Uncle  Ruthven,  I'll  be 
six  years  old  when  I  have  a  birthday  in  May, 
and  the  other  day  we  saw  *a  little  girl,  —  she 
was  blind  Willie's  sister,  —  and  she  couldn't 
say  th,  though  she  is  'most  seven  ;  and  I  thought 
it  sounded  pretty  foolish;  and  then  I  thought 
maybe  it  sounded  just  as  foolish  for  me  not  to 
say  r,  so  I  tried  and  tried,  and  Maggie  helped 
me." 

"  Uncle  Ruthven,"  said  Maggie,  coming  to 
his  side,  and  putting  her  arm  about  his  neck, 
she  whispered  in  his  ear, "  did  you  ever  find  a 
man  to  buy  my  book  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  Mr.  Stanton,  "  a  first- 
rate  fellow,  who  promised  to  take  it  at  once. 
He  would  like  to  know  how  much  you  want 
for  it  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Maggie  ;  "  how  much 
can  he  afford  ? " 

"  Ah  !  you  answer  my  question  by  another. 
Well,  he  is  pretty  well  off,  that  fellow,  and  I 
thin k  he  will  give  you  sufficient  to  help  along 
that  blind  friend  of  yours  a  little.     We  will 


.Maggie's  Book.  245 

not  talk  of  that  just  now,  however,  but  when 
you  go  up-stairs,  I  will  come  up  and  see  you, 
and  we  will  settle  it  all  then." 

"  Here  is  a  prize,"  said  Mr.  Stanton,  coming 
into  the  parlor  some  hours  later,  when  the 
children  had  all  gone ;  and  he  held  up  Mag- 
gie's history  of  the  "  Complete  Family." 

"  What  is  that?  "  asked  Colonel  Rush,  who 
with  his  wife  had  come  to  welcome  his  sister. 

Mr.  Stanton  told  the  story  of  the  book. 

"  But  how  came  it  into  your  hands?  "  asked 
Mr.  Bradford. 

"  Oh,  Maggie  and  I  struck  a  bargain  to- 
night," said  Mr.  Stanton,  laughing,  "  and  the 
book  is  mine  to  do  as  I  please  with." 

"  Oh,  Ruth  von,  Ruthven  !  "  said  his  sister, 
coming  in  as  he  spoke,  and^passing  her  hand 
affectionately  through  his  thick,  curly  locks, 
"you  have  made  two  happy  hearts  to-night. 
Nor  will  the  stream  of  joy  you  have  set  flow- 
ing stop  with,  my  little  ones.  That  poor  blind 
child  and  his  parents —  " 

"There,   there,   that    will   do,"    said    Mr. 


246  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

Stanton,  playfully  putting  his  hand  on  Mrs. 
Bradford's  lips.  u  Sit  down  here,  Margaret. 
I  shall  give  you  all  some  passages  from  Mag- 
gie's book.  If  I  am  not  mistaken,  it  will  be  a 
rich  treat." 

Poor  little  Maggie !  She  did  not  dream,  as 
she  lay  happy  and  contented  on  her  pillow, 
how  merry  they  were  all  making  over  her 
"  Complete  Family,"  as  Uncle  Ruthven  read 
aloud  from  it  such  passages  as  these. 

"  The  Happy  father  and  mother  brought  up 
their  children  in  the  way  they  should  go,  but 
sometimes  the  children  went  out  of  it,  which 
was  not  the  blame  of  their  kind  parents, 
for  they  knew  better,  and  they  ought  to  be 
ashamed  of  themselves,  and  it  is  a  great  bless- 
ing for  children  to  have  parents. 

"  The  colonel  had  a  new  leg,  not  a  skin  one, 
but  a  man  made  it,  but  you  would  not  know 
it,  it  looks  so  real,  and  he  can  walk  with  it 
and  need  not  take  his  crutches,  and  the  souls 
of  M.  and  B.  Happy  were  very  glad  because 
this  was  a  great  rejoicing,  and  it  is  not  a  bless- 


Maggie's  Book.  247 

ing  to  be  lame,  but  to  have  two  legs  is,  and 
when  people  have  a  great  many  blessings,  they 
ought  to '  praise  God  from  whom  all  blessings 
flow ; '  but  they  don't  always,  which  is  very 
wicked. 

"  This  very  Complete  Family  grew  com- 
pleter and  completer,  for  the  travelling  uncle 
married  Aunt  Bessie,  I  mean  he  is  going  to 
marry  her,  so  she  will  be  our  own  aunt  and 
not  just  a  make  b'lieve,  and  all  the  family  are 
very  glad  and  are  very  much  obliged  to  him 
for  being  so  kind,  but  I  don't  think  he  is  a 
great  sacrifice. 

"  M.  and  B.  Happy  went  to  see  the  police- 
man's children.  Blind  Willie  was  sorrowful 
and  can't  see  his  mothery  or  anything,  which 
is  no  consequence,  if  lie  could  see  his  mother's 
face,  for  if  M.  Happy  and  B.  Happy  could  not 
see  dear  mamma's  face  they  would  cry  all  the 
time.  I  mean  M.  would,  but  Bessie  is  better 
than  me  so  maybe  she  would  not,  and  Willie 
is  very  patient,  and  the  cat  was  very  abomi- 
nable, and  if  Flossy  did  so,  Bessie  and  I  would 


248  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

be  disgraced  of  him.  She  humped  up  her 
back  and  was  cross,  so  Mrs.  Granby  put  her 
in  the  drawer,  but  she  put  a  paw  out  of  the 
crack  and  spit  and  scratched  and  did  'most 
everything.  Oh  !  such  a  bad  cat !  ! ! !  ! !  Jennie 
she  cannot  say  th,  and  afterwards  I  laughed 
about  it,  but  Bessie  said  I  ought  not,  because 
she  cannot  say  r  and  that  was  'most  the  same. 
And  she  is  going  to  try  and  say  Uncle 
Ruthven's  name  quite  plain  and  hard,  he  is  so 
very  good  to  us,  and  he  promised  to  find  a  man 
to  buy  this  book,  and  we  hope  the  man  will 
give  five  dollars  to  be  a  great  help  for  blind 
"Willie's  doctor.  I  suppose  he  will  ask  every- 
body in  the  cars  if  they  want  to  buy  a  book  to 
print,  that  somebody  of  his  wrote,  but  he  is 
not  going  to  tell  our  name  because  I  asked 
him  not  to." 

The  book  ended  in  this  way  :  — 

"  These  are  not  all  the  acts  of  the  Complete 
Family,  but  there  will  bo  another  book  with 
some  more.  Adieu.  And  if  you  don't  know 
French,  that  means  good-by  The  end  of  the 
book  t " 


Maggie's  Book.  249 

"  Pretty  well  for  seven  years  old,  I  think," 
said  Mr.  Bradford.  "  Mamma,  did  you  lend  a 
helping  hand  ?  " 

u  Only  to  correct  the  spelling,"  said  Mrs. 
Bradford ;  "  the  composition  and  ideas  are  en- 
tirely Maggie's  own,  with  a  little  help  from 
Bessie.  I  have  not  interfered  save  once  or 
twice  when  she  has  chosen  some  subject  I  did 
not  think  it  best  she  should  write  on.  Both 
she  and  Bessie  have  taken  so  much  pleasure 
in  it  that  I  think  it  would  have  been  a  real 
trial  to  part  with  the  book  except  for  some 
such  object  as  they  have  gained." 

"  And  what  is  that  ?  "  asked  Colonel  Rush. 

"  The  sum  Dr.  Dawson  asks  for  the  cure 
of  Willie  Richards,"  answered  Mrs.  Bradford, 
"  which  sum  this  dear  brother  of  mine  is  al- 
lowing to  pass  through  the  hands  of  these 
babies  of  mine,  as  their  gift  to  the  blind 
child." 

"  Aunt  Patty,"  said  Bessie  at  the  breakfast- 
table  the  next  morning,  —  "  Aunt  Patty,  did 
you  hear  what  Uncle  Ruthven  did  for  us  ?  " 


250  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

"  Yes,  I  heard,"  said  the  old  lady,  shortly. 

"  And  don't  you  feel  very  happy  with  us  ?  " 
asked  the  little  darling,  who  was  anxious  that 
every  one  should  rejoice  with  herself  and 
Maggie ;  but  she  spoke  more  timidly  than 
she  had  done  at  first,  and  something  of  her 
old  fear  of  Aunt  Patty  seemed  to  come  over 
her. 

"  I  do  not  think  it  at  all  proper  that  chil- 
dren should  be  allowed  to  have  such  large 
sums  of  money,"  said  Mrs.  Lawrence,  speak 
ing  not  to  Bessie,  but  to  Mrs.  Bradford.  "  I 
thought  your  brother  a  more  sensible  man, 
Margaret.     Such  an  ill-judged  thing!  " 

Mrs.  Bradford  was  vexed,  as  she  saw  the 
bright  face  of  her  little  daughter  become  over- 
cast, still  she  tried  to  speak  pleasantly.  Some- 
thing had  evidently  gone  wrong  with  Aunt 
Patty. 

"I  do  not  think  you  will  find  Ruthven 
wanting  in  sense  or  judgment,  Aunt  Patty," 
she  said,  gently.  "  And  the  sum  you  speak 
of  is  for  a  settled   purpose.      It  only   passes 


Maggie's  Booh.  251 

through  my  children's  hands,  and  is  not 
theirs  to  waste  or  spend  as  they  may  please. " 

"  And  if  it  was.  we  would  rather  give  it 
to  blind  Willie,  mamma,"  said  Bessie,  in  a 
grieved  and  half-angry  voice. 

"I  am  sure  of  it,  my  darling,"  said  mam- 
ma, with  a  nod  and  smile  which  brought  com- 
fort to  the  disappointed  little  heart.  Ah,  the 
dear  mamma  !  they  were  all  sure  of  sympathy 
from  her  whether  in  joy  or  sorrow.  Aunt 
Patty's  want  of  it  had  been  particularly  hard 
on  Bessie,  for  the  dear  child  saw  the  old  lady 
did  not  look  half  pleased  that  morning,  and 
she  had  spoken  as  much  from  a  wish  to  cheer 
her  as  for  her  own  sake  and  Maggie's. 

"  It  is  all  wrong,  decidedly  wrong  !  "  con- 
tinued Mrs.  Lawrence.  "  In  my  young  days 
things  were  very  different.  Children  were 
not  then  allowed  to  take  the  lead  in  every 
way,  and  to  think  they  could  do  it  as  well  or 
better  than  their  elders.  The  proper  thing 
for  you  to  do,  Margaret,  is  to  put  by  that 
money  till  your  children  are  older  and  better 
able  to  judge  what  they  are  doing." 


252  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

"  I  think  they  understand  that  now,  Aunt 
Patty,"  said  Mrs.  Bradford,  quietly,  but 
firmly  ;  "  and  if  they  should  not,  I  suppose 
you  will  allow  that  their  parents  are  able  to 
judge  for  them.  Henry  and  I  understand  all 
the  merits  of  the  present  case." 

Aunt  Patty  was  not  to  be  convinced,  and 
she  talked  for  some  time,  growing  more  and 
more  vexed  as  she  saw  her  words  had  no 
effect.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bradford  were  silent, 
for  they  knew  it  was  of  no  use  to  argue  with 
the  old  lady  when  she  was  in  one  of  these 
moods  ;  but  they  wished  that  the  meal  was  at 
an  end,  and  the  children  were  out  of  hearing. 

And  there  sat  Miss  Rush,  too,  wondering 
and  indignant,  and  only  kept  from  replying  to 
Aunt  Patty  by  Mrs.  Bradford's  beseeching 
look.  But  at  last  Mr.  Bradford's  patience 
was  at  an  end,  and  in  a  firm,  decided  manner, 
he  requested  the  old  lady  to  say  nothing  more 
on  the  subject,  but  to  leave  it  to  be  settled  by 
his  wife  and  himself. 

If  there  was  any  person   in  the  world  of 


Maggie's  Book.  253 

whom  Mrs.  Lawrence  stood  in  awe,  it  was 
her  nephew ;  and  she  knew  when  he  spoke  in 
that  tone,  he  meant  to  be  obeyed.  Therefore, 
she  was  silent,  but  sat  through  the  remainder 
of  breakfast  with  a  dark  and  angry  face. 

"  Papa,"  said  Maggie,  as  her  father  rose 
from  the  table,  "  do  you  think  there  is  the 
least,  least  hope  that  it  will  clear  to-day?  " 

"  Well,  I  see  some  signs  of  it,  dear ;  but 
these  April  days  are  very  uncertain.  Of  one 
thing  be  sure,  if  the  weather  be  at  all  fit,  I 
will  come  home  and  take  you  where  you  want 
to,go." 

"  Are  you  tired  of  being  shut  up  in  the 
house  so  long,  dear  Midget  ? "  asked  Aunt 
Bessie,  putting  her  arm  about  Maggie,  and 
drawing  her  to  her  side. 

"  Yes,  pretty  tired,  Aunt  Bessie  ;  but  that 
is  not  the  reason  why  Bessie  and  I  wish  so 
very  much  to  have  it  clear.  Papa  told  us,  if 
the  weather  was  pleasant,  he  would  take  us  to 
the  policeman's,  and  let  us  give  the  money 
ourselves.     But  he  says,  if  it  keeps  on  rain- 


254  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

ing,  he  thinks  it  would  be  better  to  send  it, 
because  it  is  not  kind  to  keep  them  wait- 
ing when  they  feel  so  badly  about  Willie,  and 
this  will  make  them  so  glad.  I  suppose  it  is 
not  very  kind,  but  we  want  very  much  to 
take  it,  and  see  Mrs.  Richards  how  pleased 
she  will  be." 

"  We  will  hope  for  the  best,"  said  Mr. 
Bradford,  cheerfully  ;  "  and  I  think  it  may 
turn  out  a  pleasant  day.  But  my  little  daugh- 
ters must  not  be  too  much  disappointed  if  the 
rain  keeps  on.  And  now  that  I  may  be  ready 
for  clear  skies  and  dry  pavements,  I  must«go 
down  town  at  once." 

No  sooner  had  the  door  closed  after  Mr. 
Bradford  than  Aunt  Patty  broke  forth  again. 
"  Margaret,"  she  said,  severely,  "  it  is  not  pos- 
sible that  you  mean  to  add  to  your  folly  by 
letting  your  children  go  to  that  low  place,  after 
such  weather  as  we  have  had!  You  don't 
know  what  you  may  expose  them  to,  espe- 
cially that  delicate  child,  whom  you  can  never 
expect  to  be  strong  while  you  are  so  shame- 


Maggie's  Book.  255 

fully  careless  of  her  ;  "  and  she  looked  at  Bes- 
sie, who  felt  very  angry. 

"  That  will  be  as  their  father  thinks  best,' 
answered  Mrs.  Bradford,  quietly.  u  He  will 
not  take  them  unless  the  weather  is  suitable  ; 
and  the  policeman's  house  is  neat  and  com- 
fortable, and  in  a  decent  neighborhood.  The 
children  will  come  to  no  harm  there." 

"  And  it  is  certainly  going  to  clear,"  said 
Harry.  "  See  there,  mamma,  how  it  is  bright- 
ening overhead." 

"  It  will  not  clear  for  some  hours  at  least," 
persisted  the  old  lady  ;  "  and  then  the  ground 
will  be  extremely  damp  after  this  week  of 
rain,  especially  among  those  narrow  streets. 
Do  be  persuaded,  Margaret,  and  say,  at  least, 
that  the  children  must  wait  till  to-morrow." 

"  Bessie  shall  not  go  unless  it  is  quite  safe 
for  her,"  answered  Mrs.  Bradford,  "  and  she 
will  not  ask  it  unless  mamma  thinks  it  best ; 
will  you,  my  darling  ?  " 

Bessie  only  replied  with  a  smile,  and  a  very 
feeble  smile  at  that ;  and  her  mother  saw  by 


256  Bessie  a?id  her  Friends, 

the  crimson  spot  in  each  cheek,  and  the  little 
hand  pressed  tightly  upon  her  lips,  how  hard 
the  dear  child  was  struggling  with  herself.  It 
was  so.  Bessie  was  hurt  at  what  she  thought 
Aunt  Patty's  unkindness  in  trying  to  deprive 
her  of  the  pleasure  on  which  she  counted,  and 
she  had  hard  work  to  keep  down  the  rising 
passion. 

Aunt  Patty  argued,  persisted,  and  per- 
suaded ;  but  she  could  gain  from  Mrs.  Brad- 
ford nothing  more  than  she  had  said  before, 
and  at  last  she  left  the  room  in  high  displeas- 
ure. 

"  Mamma,"  said  Harry,  indignantly,  "  what 
do  you  stand  it  for  ?  How  dare  she  talk  so 
to  you  ?  Your  folly,  indeed  !  I  wish  papa 
had  been  here  !  " 

"  I  wish  you'd  let  me  hush  her  up,"  said 
Fred.  "  It's  rather  hard  for  a  fellow  to  stand 
by  and  have  his  mother  spoken  to  that  way. 
Now  is  she  not  a  meddling,  aggravating  old 
coon,  Aunt  Bessie  ?  No,  you  need  not  shake 
your  head  in  that  grave,  reproving  way.     I 


Maggie's  Book,  257 

know  you  think  so ;  and  you,  too,  you  dear, 
patient  little  mamma ; "  and  here  Fred  gavo 
his  mother  such  a  squeeze  and  kiss  as  wouFi 
have  made  any  one  else  cry  out  for  mercy. 

"  I  sha'n't  try  to  bear  Aunt  Patty's  burden 
this  day,  I  know,"  said  Maggie.  "  She  is  too 
mean  not  to  want  blind  Willie  cured,  and  it 
is  not  any  of  hers  to  talk  about,  either.  Her 
corners  are  awful  to-day !  Just  trying  to 
make  mamma  say  Bessie  couldn't  go  to  the 
policeman's  house  !  " 

Bessie  said  nothing,  but  her  mamma  saw 
she  was  trying  to  keep  down  her  angry  feel- 
ings. 

"I  suppose  she  is  tired  of  the  '  new  leaf ' 
she  pretended  to  have  turned  over,  and  don't 
mean  to  play  good  girl  any  more,"  said  Fred. 

"  She  has  been  worrying  papa  too,"  said  Bar 
ry.  "  There  is  never  any  knowing  what  shf/11 
be  at.  There  was  a  grove  which  used  to  belong 
to  her  father,  and  which  had  been  sold  by  one 
of  her  brothers  after  he  died.  It  was  a  favor- 
ite place  with  our  great-grandfather,  and  Aunt 
17 


258  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

Patty  wanted  it  back  very  much,  but  she 
never  could  pursuade  the  man  who  had 
bought  it  to  give  it  up.  A  few  years  ago  he 
died,  and  his  son  offered  to  sell  it  to  her.  She 
could  not  afford  it  then,  for  she  had  lost  a 
great  deal  of  property,  and  the  mean  chap 
asked  a  very  large  sum  for  it  because  he  knew 
she  wanted  it  so  much.  But  she  was  deter- 
mined to  have  it,  and  for  several  years  she  has 
been  putting  by  little  by  little  till  she  should 
have  enough.  She  told  Fred  and  me  all 
about  it,  one  evening  when  papa  and  mamma 
were  out,  and  we  felt  so  sorry  for  her  when 
she  told  how  her  father  had  loved  the  place, 
and  how  she  could  die  contented  if  she  only 
had  it  back  once  more  after  all  these  years, 
that  we  asked  papa  if  he  could  not  help  her. 
Papa  said  he  would  willingly  do  so,  but  she 
would  not  be  pleased  if  he  offered,  though 
she  had  so  set  her  heart  on  it  that  she  was 
denying  herself  everything  she  could  possi- 
bly  do  without;  for  she  is  not  well  off  now, 
and  is  too  proud  to  let  her  friends  help  her 


Maggie's  Book,  259 

Well,  it  seems  she  had  enough  laid  by  at  last, 
■ —  a  thousand  dollars,  —  and  she  asked  papa 
to  settle  it  all  for  her.  He  wrote  to  the  man, 
and  had  a  lot  of  fuss  and  bother  with  him  ; 
but  it  was  all  fixed  at  last,  and  the  papers 
drawn  up,  when  what  does  she  do  a  week 
ago,  but  tell  papa  she  had  changed  her  mind, 
and  should  not  buy  the  grove  at  present." 

"  Harry,  my  boy,"  said  Mrs.  Bradford, 
"  this  is  all  so,  but  how  do  you  happen  to 
know  so  much  about  it  ?  " 

"  Why,  she  talked  to  me  several  times  about 
it,  mamma.  She  was  quite  chipper  with  Fred 
and  me  now  and  then,  when  no  grown  people 
were  around,  and  used  to  tell  us  stories  of 
things  which  happened  at  the  old  homestead  by 
the  hour.  The  other  day  when  you  were  out, 
and  Mag  and  Bess  had  gone  to  the  police- 
man's, she  told  me  it  was  all  settled  that  she 
was  to  have  the  grove ;  and  she  seemed  so 
happy  over  it.  But  only  two  days  after,  when 
1  said  something  about  it,  she  took  me  up 
quite  short,  and  told  me  that   affair  was    all 


260  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

over,  and  no  more  to  be  said.  I  didn't  dare 
to  ask  any  more  questions  of  her,  but  I 
thought  it  no  harm  to  ask  papa,  and  he  told 
me  he  knew  no  more  than  I  did,  for  Aunt 
Patty  would  give  him  no  reason.  He  was 
dreadfully  annoyed  by  it,  I  could  see,  al- 
though he  did  not  say  much ;  he  never  does, 
you  know,  when  he  is  vexed." 

"  Quite  true,"  said  his  mother  ;  "  and  let 
him  be  an  example  to  the  rest  of  us.  We 
have  all  forgotten  ourselves  a  little  in  the  vex- 
ations of  the  morning.  You  have  been  saying 
that  which  was  better  left  unsaid,  and  your 
mother  has  done  wrong  in  listening  to  you." 

"  No,  indeed,  you  have  not,"  said  Fred, 
again  clutching  his  mother  violently  about 
the  neck  ;  "  you  never  do  wrong,  you  dear, 
precious  mamma,  and  I'll  stand  up  for  you 
against  all  the'  cross  old  Aunt  Pattys  in  crea- 
tion." 

"  My  dear  boy,"  gasped  his  mother,  "  if  you 
could  leave  my  head  on,  it  would  be  a  greater 
convenience  than  fighting  on  my  account  with 


Maggie's  Book.  261 

Aunt  Patty.  And  your  mother  must  be  very 
much  on  her  guard,  Fred,  if  a  thing  is  to  be 
judged  right  by  you  because  she  does  it.  But, 
dearest  children,  did  we  not  all  determine  not 
to  allow  ourselves  to  be  irritated  and  vexed  by 
such  things  as  have  taken  place  this  morning  ? 
This  is  almost  the  first  trial  of  the  kind  we 
have  had.  Let  us  be  patient  and  forgiving, 
and  try  to  think  no  more  of  it." 

But  it  was  in  vain  that  Mrs.  Bradford 
coaxed  and  persuaded,  and  even  reproved. 
Her  children  obeyed,  and  were  silent  when 
she  forbade  any  more  to  be  said  on  the  sub- 
ject;  but  she  could  not  do  away  with  the 
impression  which  Aunt  Patty's  ill-temper  and 
interference  had  made. 

Poor  Aunt  Patty !  She  had  practised  a 
great  piece  of  self-denial,  had  given  up  a 
long-cherished  hope,  that  she  might  have  the 
means  of  doing  a  very  kind  action  ;  but  she 
did  not  choose  to  have  it  known  by  her 
friends.  And  having  made  up  her  mind  to 
this,  and  given  up  so  much  to  bring  it  about, 


262  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

it  did  seem  hard  that  her  arrangements  should 
be  interfered  with,  as  they  seemed  likely  to  be 
by  this  new  plan  which  had  come  to  her  ears 
the  night  before. 

But  now  as  she  stood  alone  in  her  own 
room,  taking  herself  to  task  for  the  ill-temper 
she  had  just  shown,  she  felt  that  it  would  be 
still  harder  for  the  children  ;  she  could  not  al- 
low them  to  be  disappointed  if  it  were  still  pos- 
sible to  prevent  it ;  that  would  be  too  cruel 
now  that  she  saw  so  plainly  how  much  they  had 
set  their  hearts  upon  this  thing.  At  first  it 
had  seemed  to  her,  as  she  said,  much  better 
that  they  should  put  by  the  money  until  they 
were  older,  but  now  she  saw  it  was  the 
desire  to  carry  out  her  own  will  which  had 
led  her  to  think  this.  But  Aunt  Patty  was 
learning  to  give  up  her  own  will,  slowly  and 
with  difficulty  it  might  be,  with  many  a  strug- 
gle, many  a  failure,  as  had  been  shown  this 
morning ;  but  still,  thanks  to  the  whispers  of 
the  better  spirit  by  whose  teachings  she  had 
lately  been  led,  she  was  taking  to  heart   the 


Maggie's  Booh.  263 

lesson   so  hard  to  learn  because  so  late  be- 
gun. 

And  now  how  was  she  to  undo  what  she 
had  done,  so  that  Maggie  and  Bessie  might 
still  keep  this, matter  in  their  own  hands  ?  For 
Aunt  Patty,  hearing  the  little  ones  talk  so 
much  of  the  blind  boy  and  his  parents,  had 
become  quite  interested  in  the  policeman's 
family.  She  did  not  know  them,  it  was  true, 
had  never  seen  one  of  them,  but  the  chil- 
dren's sympathy  had  awakened  hers,  and  she 
felt  a  wish  to  do  something  to  help  them ;  but 
to  do  this  to  mucli  purpose  was  not  very  easy 
for  Mrs.  Lawrence.  She  was  not  rich,  and 
what  she  gave  to  others  she  must  take  from 
her  own  comforts  and  pleasures.  What  a  good 
thing  it  would  be  to  pay  Dr.  Dawson  and  free 
the  policeman  from  debt !  What  happiness  this 
would  bring  to  those  poor  people  !  What  pleas- 
ure it  would  give  little  Maggie  and  Bessie ! 
But  how  could  she  do  it  ?  She  had  not  the 
means  at  present,  unless,  indeed,  she  put  off 
the  purchase  of  the  grove  for  a  year  or  two, 


264  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

and  took  part  of  the  sum  she  had  so  carefully 
laid  by  for  that  purpose,  and  if  she  did  so,  she 
might  never  have  back  the  grove.  She  was 
very  old,  had  not  probably  many  years  to  live, 
and  she  might  pass  away  before  the  wished-for 
prize  was  her  own.  And  these  people  were 
nothing  to  her  ;  why  should  she  make  such  a 
sacrifice  for  them  ? 

So  thought  Aunt  Patty,  and  then  said  to 
herself,  if  she  had  but  a  short  time  upon  earth, 
was  there  not  more  reason  that  she  should 
spend  it  in  doing  all  she  could  for  her  Master's 
service,  in  helping  those  of  his  children  on 
whom  he  had  laid  pain  and  sorrows  ?  She  had 
been  wishing  that  she  might  be  able  to  prove 
her  love  and  gratitude  for  the  great  mercy 
that  had  been  shown  to  her,  that  she  might 
yet  redeem  the  wasted  years,  the  misspent  life 
which  lay  behind  her,  and  now  when  the  Lord 
had  given  her  the  opportunity  for  which  she 
had  been  longing,  should  she  turn  her  back 
upon  it,  should  she  shut  her  ear  to  the  cry  of 
the  needy,  because  to  answer  it  would  cost  a 


Maggie's  Book.  265 

sacrifice  of  her  own  wishes  ?  Should  she  bear 
the  burdens  of  others  only  when  they  did  not 
weigh  heavily  on  herself? 

And  so  the  old  lady'had  gone  to  Dr.  Daw- 
son and  paid  hirn  the  sum  he  asked  for  curing 
Willie's  eyes.  What  more  she  had  done  will 
be  shown  hereafter.  If  the  children  had 
known  this,  perhaps  they  could  have  guessed 
why  she  would  not  buy  the  grove  after  all 
papa's  trouble.  There  were  several  reasons 
why  Mrs.  Lawrence  had  chosen  to  keep  all 
this  a  secret ;  partly  from  a  really  honest  desire 
not  to  parade  her  generosity  in  the  eyes  of 
men,  partly  because  she  thought  that  Mr. 
Bradford  might  oppose  it,  and  fearing  the 
strength  of  her  own  resolution,  she  did  not 
care  to  have  it  shaken  by  any  persuasions 
to  the  contrary,  and  partly  because  she  had 
always  rather  prided  herself  on  carrying  out 
her  own  plans  without  help  or  advice  from 
others.  This  fear  that  she  might  be  tempted 
to  change  her  purpose  had  also  made  Aunt 
Patty  so  anxious  to  bring  it  to  an  end  at  once, 


266  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

and  had  taken  her  out  in  the  rain  on  the  day  be- 
fore this.  And  now  it  seemed  that  her  trouble 
so  far  as  regarded  Dr.  Dawson  was  all  thrown 
away.  But  the  question  was,  how  should  she 
get  the  money  back  from  the  doctor  without 
betraying  herself  to  him  or  some  of  the  family  ? 
for  this  Aunt  Patty  was  quite  determined  not 
to  do.  It  was  not  a  pleasant  task  to  ask  him 
to  return  the  money  she  had  once  given,  and 
that  without  offering  any  reason  save  that 
she  had  changed  her  mind.  Every  limb  was 
aching  with  the  cold  taken  from  her  exposure 
of  yesterday,  and  now  if  she  was  to  be  in  time, 
she  must  go  out  again  in  the  damp.  True,  it 
was  not  raining  now,  but  there  was  another 
heavy  cloud  coming  up  in  the  south  ;  she 
should  surely  be  caught  in  a  fresh  shower. 
If  she  could  have  persuaded  Mrs.  Bradford  to 
keep  the  children  at  home  until  the  next  day, 
she  could  go  to  Dr.  Dawson  that  afternoon  if 
the  weather  were  clear,  and  so  escape  another 
wetting.  For  the  doctor  had  told  her  he  did 
not  think  he  could  see  the  policeman  before 
the  evening  of  that  day. 


Maggie's  Book,  267 

But  Margaret  was  "  obstinate,"  said  the  old 
lady,  forgetting  that  she  herself  was  a  little 
obstinate  in  keeping  all  this  a  secret.  So 
there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  go  at  once. 

Poor  old  lady  !  Perhaps  it  was  not  to  be 
wondered  at  that,  as  she  moved  about  the  room, 
making  ready  to  go  out,  she  should  again  feel 
irritable  and  out  of  humor.  She  was  in  much 
pain.  The  plans  which  had  cost  her  so  much, 
and  which  she  had  thought  would  give  such 
satisfaction,  were  all  disarranged.  She  was 
vexed  at  being  misjudged  by  those  from  whom 
she  had  so  carefully  concealed  what  she  had 
done,  for  she  saw  plainly  enough  that  they  all 
thought  her  opposition  of  the  morning  was 
owing  to  the  spirit  of  contradiction  she  had  so 
often  shown.  She  was  vexed  at  herself,  vexed 
with  Mrs.  Bradford,  vexed  even  with  the  little 
ones  whom  she  could  not  allow  to  be  disap- 
pointed, and  just  for  the  moment  she  could 
not  make  up  her  mind  to  be  reasonable  and 
look  at  things  in  their  right  light. 

Nor  were  her  troubles  yet  at  an  end.     As 


268  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

she  left  the  room,  she  met  Mrs.  Bradford,  who, 
seeing  that  she  was  going  out  again,  once 
more  tried  to  dissuade  her  from  such  im- 
prudence, but  all  to  no  purpose.  Aunt  Patty- 
was  very  determined  and  rather  short,  and 
went  on  her  way  down-stairs. 

As  Mrs.  Bradford  entered  her  nursery, 
mammy,  who  had  heard  all  that  had  passed, 
said,  with  the  freedom  of  an  old  and  privi- 
leged servant,  — 

"  Eh,  my  dear,  but  she's  contrary.  She's 
just  hunting  up  a  fit  of  rheumatics,  that  you 
may  have  the  trouble  of  nursing  her  through 
it." 

Mrs.  Lawrence  heard  the  old  woman's  im- 
proper speech,  but  did  not  hear  Mrs.  Bradford's 
gently  spoken  reproof,  and  we  may  be  sure  the 
first  did  not  help  to  restore  her  good-humor. 


XIII 


DISAPPOINTMENT. 


ESSIE'S  high  spirits  had  all  flown 
away.  The  scene  with  Aunt  Patty, 
and  the  fear  that  the  weather  would 
not  allow  Maggie  and  herself  to  carry  Uncle 
Ruthven's  gift  to  blind  Willie,  on  which  pleas- 
ure, in  spite  of  her  father's  warning,  she  had 
quite  set  her  mind,  were  enough  to  sadden 
that  sensitive  little  heart.  More  than  this,  she 
was  very  much  hurt  at  what  Aunt  Patty  had 
said  of  her  mother.  She,  that  dear,  precious 
mamma,  always  so  tender  and  devoted,  so 
careful  of  her  by  night  and  day,  to  be  so 
spoken  of!  No  one  else  had  ever  dared  to 
speak  so  to  mamma  in  her  hearing,  and  she 
did  not  feel  as  if  she  could  forgive  it.  Poor 
little  soul !    she  was  very  indignant,  but   she 


270  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

kept  down  her  anger,  and  all  she  had  allowed 
herself  to  say  had  been,  "  She  would  not  like 
to  be  blind  herself  a  whole  year ;  but  she  has 
not  a  bit  of  symphethy ."  At  which  long  word 
mamma  could  not  help  smiling ;  but  as  she 
looked  at  the  grieved  face,  she  felt  as  if  she 
could  scarcely  keep  her  own  patience. 

"  Come  here,  Bessie,"  said  Miss  Rush,  who 
was  sitting  by  the  window,  "  I  have  something 
to  show  you ;  see  there,"  as  Bessie  climbed 
upon  her  lap.  "  A  few  moments  since  I  saw 
a  break  in  the  clouds,  and  a  bit  of  blue  sky 
peeping  out.  I  did  not  call  you  right  away, 
lest  you  should  be  disappointed  again  ;  but 
the  blue  is  spreading  and  spreading,  so  I  think 
we  may  hope  for  a  fine  day,  after  all.  And 
see,  there  is  the  sun  struggling  through.  Ah, 
I  think  you  will  have  your  walk  with  papa." 

Yes,  there  came  the  sun  shining  quite 
brightly  now,  and  the  pools  of  water  on  the 
sidewalk  began  to  dance  in  his  beams  as  if 
they  were  saying,  "  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Sun  ? 
We   are  glad  to  see  you  after  a  week's   ab- 


Disappointment.  271 

sence,  even  though  you  do  mean  to  make  us 
disappear  beneath  your  warm  rays." 

Bessie  watched  for  a  few  moments,  and  then 
ran  to  find  Maggie,  who  had  gone  up-stairs 
with  mamma  for  a  new  story-book  which  Aunt 
Bessie  had  promised  to  read  for  them. 

"  Maggie,  Maggie !  "  she  called  from  the  foot 
of  the  stairs,  "  come  and  see  how  the  blue  sky 
is  coming  out  and  how  the  sun  is  shining ; " 
and  as  she  spoke,  Maggie  ran  along  the  upper 
hall,  and  came  down,  saying,  dolefully, — 

"  Oh,  Bessie  !  I  saw  it  up-stairs,  and  I  went 
to  the  window  to  look,  and  there's  a  great 
cloud  coming  over  the  sun.  There,  see  !  he's 
all  gone  now.  I  just  believe  it  is  going  to 
rain  again." 

It  was  too  true,  and  as  the  iutle  girls  ran 
to  the  front-door,  and  Maggie  drew  aside  the 
lace  which  covered  the  large  panes  of  glass  in 
the  upper  part,  so  that  they  might  peep  out, 
they  saw  that  the  blue  sky  had  disappeared, 
and  a  moment  later,  down  splashed  the  heavy 
drops  of  rain. 


272  Bessie   and  her  jFriends. 

Bessie  felt  a  great  choking  in  her  throat, 
and  Maggie  said,  impatiently,  "  It  is  never  go- 
ing to  clear  up;  I  know  it.  It  just  rains  this 
way  to  provoke  poor  children  who  want  to  go 
out." 

"  Maggie,  darling,  who  sends  the  rain  ? " 
came  in  Aunt  Bessie's  gentle  tone  through 
the  open  parlor-door,  and  at  the  same  mo- 
ment a  stern  voice  behind  the  children 
said,  — 

"  You  are  very  naughty,  child.  Do  you  re- 
member that  God  hears  you  when  you  say 
such  wicked  words  ? " 

Both  children  turned  with  a  start  to  see 
Mrs.  Lawrence  in  hat  and  cloak,  and  with  an 
enormous  umbrella  in  her  hand. 

"  No,5'  she  said,  severely,  as  poor  frightened 
Maggie  shrank  before  the  glance  of  her  eye, 
''  you  will  not  go  out  to-day,  nor  do  you  de- 
serve it." 

Then  Bessie's  anger  broke  forth.  "  You 
are  bad,  you're  cruel!"  she  said,  stamping 
her  foot,  and  with  her  face  crimson  with  pas 


Disappointment.  273 

sion,  "  You  want  poor  Willie  to  be  blind  all 
his  life.  You  don't  want  him  to  be  well,  even 
when  our  Father  —  " 

What  more  she  would  have  said  will  never 
be  known,  save  by  Him  who  reads  all  hearts  ; 
for  as  these  last  two  words  passed  her  lips,  she 
checked  herself,  and  rushing  to  Aunt  Bessie, 
who  had  gone  to  the  parlor-door  at  the  sound 
of  Mrs.  Lawrence's  voice,  buried  her  face  in 
the  folds  of  her  dress. 

'*  Our  Father  !  "  Was  she  his  little  child 
now  when  in  her  fury  and  passion  she  had 
forgotten  that  his  holy  eye  rested  upon  her, 
when  she  was  grieving  and  offending  him  ? 
Such  was  the  thought  that  had  stopped  her, 
even  as  she  poured  forth  those  angry  words. 
For  one  moment  she  stood  with  her  face  hid- 
den, sending  up  a  silent,  hurried  prayer  to  the 
Great  Helper,  then  turning  to  Aunt  Patty, 
she  said,  with  a  touching  meekness, — : 

"  Please  forgive  me,  Aunt  Patty.     I  didn't 

try  hard  enough  that  time ;  but  I'll  try  not  to 

do  so   again.      The  wicked  passion  came   so 
18 


274  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

quick ; "  and  then  she  hid  her  face  once  more 
against  Miss  Rush. 

Yes,  the  passion  had  come  quickly,  but  it 
had  been  quickly  conquered,  and  as  Aunt 
Patty  looked  at  her,  these  words  came  to  her 
mind  :  "  Greater  is  he  that  ruleth  his  spirit 
than  he  that  taketh  a  city  ; "  and  she  stood 
humbled  before  this  little  child.  Turning 
away  without  a  word,  she  opened  the  front- 
door and  passed  out,  while  Miss  Rush  led  the 
children  back  to  the  parlor. 

Aunt  Bessie's  own  eyes  glistened  as  she 
lifted  the  sobbing  child  upon  her  lap,  while 
Maggie  stood  beside  her,  holding  Bessie's 
hand  in  one  of  her  own,  and  with  her  pocket- 
handkerchief  wiping  the  tears  that  streamed 
from  her  little  sister's  eyes. 

"  Oh,  it  has  been  such  a  bad  day,  and  we 
thought  it  was  going  to  be  such  a  nice  one , 
didn't  we  ?  "  said  Bessie.  "  We  were  so  very 
glad  when  we  woke  up  this  morning,  and  we 
have  had  such  very  misable  times  all  day,  and 
now  I  was  so   naughty.     And  I  did   ask    fo 


Disaffoin  tment.  275 

help  to  be  good,  too,  this  morning.  Aunt 
Bessie,  why  didn't  it  come  ?  " 

"I  think  it  did  come,  darling,"  said  Aunt 
Bessie.  "If  it  had  not,  you  could  not  have 
conquered  yourself  as  you  did  the  moment 
you  remembered  you  were  displeasing  your 
heavenly  Father.  If  you  forgot  for  a  moment, 
and  your  temper  overcame  you.,  I  think  he 
knew  how  you  had  struggled  with  it  this 
morning,  and  so  pitied  and  forgave,  sending 
the  grace  and  strength  you  needed  as  soon  as 
you  saw  your  own  want  of  it." 

"  It's  all  Aunt  Patty's  fault,  anyhow,"  said 
Maggie.  "  She  provoked  us,  hateful  old 
thing  !  I  know  I  ought  not  to  say  that  about 
the  rain,  Aunt  Bessie,  'cause  it's  God's  rain, 
and  he  can  send  it  if  he  chooses  ;  but  it  was 
not  her  business  to  meddle  about,  and  I  am  a 
great  deal  more  sorry  for  your  speaking  so 
kind  than  for  all  the  scolding.  I  just  wish  — 
I  wish  _  » 

"  I  would  not  wish  any  bad  wishes  for 
Aunt  Patty,  dear,"  said  Miss  Rush.  "  Tha» 
will  not  help  any  of  us  to  feel  better." 


276  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  Maggie, 
gravely  shaking  her  head.  "  I  think  I'd  feel 
more  comfortable  in  my  mind  if  I  wished 
something  about  her.  I  think  I'll  have  to  do 
it,  Aunt  Bessie." 

"  Then  wish  only  that  she  were  a  little 
more  amiable,  or  did  not  speak  quite  so 
sharply,"  said  Miss  Rush,  smiling  at  Maggie's 
earnestness. 

"  Oh,  pooh !  that's  no  good,"  said  Maggie. 
"  She  never  will  learn  to  behave  herself.  I'll 
tell  you,  I  just  wish  she  was  a  Lot's  wife." 

"  Lot's  wife  ?  "  said  Miss* Rush. 

"  I  mean  Lot's  wife  after  she  'came  a  pillar 
of  salt,  and  then  maybe  she'd  be  all  soaked 
away  in  this  pouring  rain,  and  no  more  left  of 
her  to  come  back  again  and  bother  us." 

There  was  never  any  telling  where  Maggie's 
ideas  would  carry  her,  and  at  the  thought  of 
the  droll  fate  she  had  imagined  for  Aunt 
Patty,  Miss  Rush  fairly  laughed  outright,  and 
even  Bessie  smiled,  after  which  she  said  she 
would   go  up-stairs  and   talk  a  little  to   her 


Disaff  ointment.  277 

mother,  which  always  did  her  good  when  she 
was  in  trouble. 

This  shower  proved  the  last  of  the  rain  for 
that  day,  and  by  twelve  o'clock  the  clouds  had 
all  rolled  away  and  the  pavements  were  dry- 
ing rapidly,  giving  fresh  hope  to  Maggie  and 
Bessie  that  they  would  be  able  to  go  over  to 
the  policeman's  house ;  but  before  that  Aunt 
Patty  had  returned.  She  was  very  silent, 
almost  sad,  and  the  many  troubled  looks  she 
cast  towards  the  little  girls  made  Mrs.  Brad 
ford  think  that  she  was  sorry  for  her  unkind 
ness  of  the  morning. 

This  was  so,  but  there  was  more  than  thav 
to  trouble  the  old  lady,  for  her  errand  to  Dr. 
Dawson  had  been  fruitless.  When  she  reached 
his  house,  he  was  out,  but  she  sat  down  to 
wait  for  him.  He  soon  came  in  and  without 
waiting  for  her  to  speak,  told  her  that,  having 
an  hour  to  spare,  he  had  just  been  up  to  the 
police-station  to  give  Richards  the  good  news. 

So  it  was  too  late  after  all,  for  now  that  the 
policeman   knew   of  her  gift,  Mrs.  Lawrence 


278  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

could  not  make  up  her  mind  to  ask  it  back. 
Then  the  doctor  asked  her  if  she  had  any  fur- 
ther business  with  him,  to  which  she  answered 
"  No,"  and  walked  away,  leaving  him  to  think 
what  a  very  odd  old  lady  she  was,  and  to  say 
indignantly  that  he  believed  "  she  had  not 
trusted  him,  and  had  come  to  see  that  he  kept 
faith  with  her." 

"  Bradford,"  said  Mr.  Stanton,  as  he  stood 
in  his  brother-in-law's  office  that  morning, 
"  those  dear  little  girls  of  yours  have  put  me 
to  shame  with  their  lively,  earnest  desire  to 
do  good  to  others.  Here  have  I  been  leading 
this  lazy,  useless  life  ever  since  I  came  home, 
looking  only  to  my  own  comfort  and  happi- 
ness; and  in  my  want  of  thought  for  others 
scarcely  deserving  the  overflowing  share  of 
both  which  has  fallen  to  me.  Your  little 
ones  have  given  me  a  lesson  in  their  innocent 
wish  to  extend  to  others  the  benefits  which 
God  has  heaped  upon  them  ;  now  cannot  you 
help  me  to  put  it  into  practice  ?  I  am  still 
so  much  of  a  stranger  in  my  own  city  that  I 


Disappointment.  279 

should  scarcely  know  where  to  begin  the  task 
of  carrying  help  to  those  who  need  it ;  but 
you  were  always  a  hand  to  know  the  claims 
and  deserts  of  the  poor.  I  have,  thank  God, 
the  means  and  the  time  ;  can  you  show  me% 
where  I  can  best  spend   them  ?  " 

"  Doubtless,  my  dear  fellow,"  answered  Mr. 
Bradford.  ''  I  think  you  are  rather  hard  upon 
yourself ;  but  I  can  -  show  you  where  both 
time  and  money  can  be  laid  out  with  a 
certainty  of  doing  good  and  bringing  happi- 
ness to  those  who  deserve  them.  Just  now  — 
But  how  far  do  your  benevolent  intentions 
go?" 

"  Tell  me  the  necessities  of  your  protegee 
or  protegees"  said  Mr.  Stanton,  smiling, 
"  and  I  will  tell  you  how  far  I  am  inclined 
to  satisfy  them.  I  had  not  thought  much 
about  it,  having  just  been  roused  to  a  sense 
that  it  was  time  I  was  doing  somewhat  for 
the  welfare  of  those  who  are  not  as  well  off 
as  myself." 

"  I  was  about  to  say,"  continued  Mr.  Brad 


i8o  Uessie  and  her  Friends, 

ford,  "  tli s>t  at  present  I  know  of  no  more 
worthy  case  than  that  of  the  father  of  tha 
blind  boy  in  whom  my  children  are  so  much 
interested.  If  an  honest,  God-fearing  heart, 
a  trusting,  cheerful,  yet  submissive  spirit,  can 
give  him  a  claim  upon  our  help  and  sympathy, 
he  certainly  possesses  it.  I  have  watched  him 
and  talked  to  him  during  the  last  few  months 
with  considerable  interest,  and  I  honestly  be- 
lieve his  troubles  have  not  arisen  through  any 
fault  of  his  own ,  but  through  the  dealings  of 
Providence.  He  has  been  sorely  tried,  poor 
fellow,  and  I  should  like  to  see  him  set  right 
once  more  with  the  world,  free  from  the  pres- 
sure of  debt,  and  able  to  save  his  earnings  for 
the  comfort  of  his  family.  I  had  intended  to 
undertake  the  payment  of  Dr.  Dawson  for  the 
treatment  of  Willie's  eyes,  but  since  you  have 
done  this,  I  shall  hand  to  Richards  the  sum 
I  had  intended  for  that  purpose.  Whatever 
you  may  choose  to  add  to  this,  will  be  so 
much  towards  relieving  him  from  his  debt  to 
this  Schwitz." 


Disappointment.  281 

"And  how  much  is  that?"  asked  Mr. 
Stanton. 

Mr.  Bradford  named  the  sum,  and  after 
hearing  all  the  circumstances,  Mr.  Stanton 
drew  a  check  for  the  amount  needed  to  pay 
the  rest  of  the  debt  to  Dr.  Schwitz,  and  gave 
it  to  his  brother-in-law,  asking  him  to  hand 
it  to  the  policeman  with  his  own  gift. 

"  You  had  better  come  with  us  this  after- 
noon, and  see  for  yourself,"  said  Mr.  Brad- 
ford. u  It  is  going  to  be  fine,  and  I  have 
promised  those  dear  little  things'  that  they 
shall  carry  their  prize  to  the  blind  boy's  home. 
I  believe  we  are  likely  to  find  Richards  there 
about  three  o'clock,  and  I  should  like  you  to 
know  him." 

So  Mr.  Stanton  was  persuaded;  and  as 
Maggie  and  Bessie  were  watching  eagerly 
from  the  window  for  the  first  glimpse  of  papa, 
they  saw  him  coming  up  the  street  with 
Uncle  Ruthven. 

When  they  were  ready  to  go,  those  three 
precious   notes,  the    price   of    Willie's    sight, 


282  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

were  brought  by  Maggie  to  her  father,  with 
many  prayers  that  he  would  take  the  best  of 
care  of  them.  She  was  not  satisfied  till  she 
had  seen  them  in  his  pocket-book,  where  she 
herself  squeezed  them  into  the  smallest  pos- 
sible corner,  next  thrusting  the  pocket-book 
into  the  very  depths  of  his  pockets,  and  ram- 
ming in  his  handkerchief  on  top  of  that,  "  to 
be  sure  to  keep  it  all  safe." 

But  there  was  a  sore  disappointment  in 
store  for  these  poor  children.  As  they  were 
leaving  the  house,  and  before  Mr.  Bradford 
had  closed  the  door  behind  them,  who  should 
appear  at  the  foot  of  the  steps  but  Sergeant 
Richards  himself,  with  his  broad,  honest  face 
in  a  glow  of  happiness  and  content. 

"  Ah !  Richards,  how  are  you  ?  "  said  Mr. 
Bradford. 

"  At  your  service,  sir,"  answered  the  police- 
man, politely  touching  his  cap.  "  I  just  came 
round  to  say  a  word  to  you,  but  I  see  you  are 
going  out.  I  sha'n't  detain  you  two  moments, 
though,  if  you  could  spare  me  that." 


Disappointment.  283 

« Willingly,"  said  Mr.  Bradford.  "  We 
.were  on  our  way  to  your  house,  but  our 
errand  will  keep ; "  and  he  led  the  way  back 
to  the  parlor,  followed  by  the  whole  party. 

Mrs.  Bradford  and  Miss  Rush  were  there 
also,  just  ready  to  go  out ;  while  Aunt  Patty 
sat  in  the  library,  where  every  word  that 
passed  in  the  front  room  must  reach  her  ears. 

"  No,  I'll  not  sit  down,  thank  you,  sir," 
said  the  policeman,  u  and  I'll  not  keep  you 
long.  You  have  been  so  kind  to  me,  and 
taken  such  an  interest  in  all  my  difficulties, 
that  I  felt  as  if  I  must  come  right  up  and  tell 
you  of  the  good  fortune,  or,  I  should  say,  the 
kind  Providence,  which  has  fallen  to  me.  I 
have  been  furnished  with  the  means  to  pay 
my  debt  to  Dr.  Schwitz  ;  and  more,  thank 
God  !  more  than  this,  Dr.  Dawson  has  re- 
ceived the  amount  of  his  charge  for  the  opera- 
tion on  Willie's  eyes.  I  shall  be  able  to  hold 
up  my  head  once  more,  and  that  with  the 
chance  of  my  boy  having  his  sight  again." 

"  And  how  has  this  come  about  ?  "  asked 
Mr.  Bradford 


284  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

u  I  cannot  say,  sir.  Some  unknown  friend 
has  done  it  all ;  but  who,  I  know  no  more 
than  yourself,  perhaps  not  so  much  ;  "  and  the 
policeman  looked  searchingly  into  Mr.  Brad- 
ford's face. 

"  And  I  know  absolutely  nothing,"  said  the 
gentleman,  smiling.  "  I  see,  Richards,  you 
thought  I  had  some  hand  in  it,  and  expected 
to  find  me  out;  but  I  assure  you,  it  is  not 
my  doing.  These  little  girls  of  mine  had, 
through  the  kindness  of  their  uncle,  hoped  to 
place  in  your  hands  the  sum  needed  for  Dr. 
Dawson,  and  it  was  for  this  purpose  that  we 
were  on  our  way  to  your  house  ;  but  you  say 
some  one  has  been  beforehand  with  us." 

"  That's  so,  sir,"said  Richards  ;  "  but  none 
the  less  am  I  most  grateful  to  you  and  the 
little  ladies  and  this  kind  gentleman  for  your 
generous  intentions.  I  am  sure  I  don't  know 
what  I  have  done  that  the  Lord  should  raise 
me  up  such  friends.  But  it  is  most  strange 
as  to  who  could  have  done  this,  sir,  and  about 
that  old  lady.;' 


Disaffoin  tracn  t.  285 

"  What  old  lady  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Bradford. 

u  Why,  sir,  she  who  either  has  done  this  or 
has  been  sent  by  some  one  else.  If  I  don't 
keep  you  too  long,  I  should  just  like  to  tell 
you  what  I  know." 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Mr.  Bradford.  "  Let  us 
have  the  story." 

"  Yesterday  morning,"  said  the  policeman, 
"  Mrs.  Granby  was  sitting  by  the  window, 
when  she  saw  an  old  lady  going  to  'most  all 
the  houses,  and  seeming  to  be  asking  her  way 
or  inquiring  for  some  one.  So  Mrs.  Granby 
puts  out  her  head  and  asks  if  she  was  look- 
ing for  any  one.  '  I  want  Mrs.  Richards,  the 
policeman's  wife,'  says  the  old  lady.  Mrs. 
Granby  told  her  that  was  the  place  and  opens 
the  door  for  her.  Well,  she  walked  in,  but  a 
stranger  she  was,  to  be  sure  ;  neither  my  wife 
nor  Mrs.  Granby  ever  set  eyes  on  her  before, 
and  they  did  not  know  what  to  make  of  her. 
All  sorts  of  questions  she  asked,  and  in  a  way 
Mary  did  not  like  at  all,  never  telling  who  she 
was   or   what  she   came  for.     Well,    after   a 


286  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

while  she  went  away,  but  never  letting  ou 
what  she  had  come  for,  and  Mrs.  Granby  and 
Mary  set  it  down  that  it  was  only  for  spying 
and  meddling.  But  last  night  when  I  took 
up  the  Bible  to  read  a  chapter  before  we  went 
to  bed,  out  drops  a  sealed  packet  with  my 
name  printed  on  it.  P  opened  it,  and  there, 
will  you  believe  it,  sir,  were  two  one  hundred 
dollar  bills,  and  around  them  a  slip  of  paper 
with  the  words,  printed,  too, '  Pay  your  debts.' 
No  more,  no  less.  You  may  know  if  we  were 
astonished,  and  as  for  my  wife,  she  was  even 
a  bit  frightened.  After  talking  it  over,  we 
were  sure  it  could  have  been  no  one  but  the 
old  lady  that  had  put  it  there.  But  who  was 
she,  and  how  did  she  know  so  much  of  my  af- 
fairs ?  Mrs.  Granby  said  she  remembered  to 
have  seen  her  fussing  with  the  leaves  of  the 
Bible,  sort  of  careless  like,  as  it  lay  upon  the 
table,  and  she  must  have  slipped  it  in  then. 
But  whether  it  was  her  own  gift,  or  whether 
she  was  sent  by  some  one  else,  who  does  not 
care  to  be  seen  in  the  matter,  I  don't  know. 


Disaff  ointment.  287 

The  women  will  have  it  that  it  was  the  last, 
and  that  she  did  not  like  her  errand,  and  so 
eased  her  mind  by  a  bit  of  fault-finding  and 
meddling,  and  I  must  say  it  looks  like  it." 

"  And  you  have  no  possible  clew  to  who 
this  person  was,  Richards  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Brad- 
ford. 

"  None,  sir.  I  might  track  her  easy,  I  sup- 
pose, but  since  she  didn't  seem  to  wish  it  to 
be  known  who  she  was  or  where  she  came 
from,  I  wouldn't  feel  it  was  showing  my  grat- 
itude for  the  obligations  she's  laid  me  under, 
and  you  see  by  the  printing  she  don't  wish 
to  be  tracked  even  by  her  handwriting.  Nor 
was  this  all.  Early  this  morning,  round 
comes  Dr.  Dawson  to  the  station,  asking  for 
me  ;  and  he  told  me  that  an  old  lady  had 
been  to  his  house  yesterday,  and  after  asking 
a  lot  of  questions,  had  paid  him  a  hundred  and 
fifty  dollars  for  undertaking  the  operation  on 
Willie's  eyes,  and  took  a  receipted  bill  from 
him.  By  all  accounts,  she  must  be  the  same 
person  who  was  at  my  place  yesterday,  and  if 


288  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

ever  a  man  was  as  mad  as  a  hornet,  he's  the 
one.  When  he  asked  if  he  might  take  the  lib- 
erty of  inquiring  what  interest  she  had  in  my 
family,  she  asked  if  it  was  necessary  to  Willie's 
cure  that  he  should  know  that ;  and  when  he 
said,  '  No,  of  course  not,'  she  said  it  was  a 
great  liberty,  and  as  good  as  told  him  to  mind 
his  own  affairs.  He  quite  agrees  with  my 
wife  and  Mrs.  Granby  that  she  was  only  a 
messenger  from  some  unknown  friend,  and 
that  she  was  not  pleased  with  the  business  she 
had  in  hand.  The  doctor  is  very  much  occu- 
pied just  now,  and  told  her  he  could  not  well 
see  me  before  this  evening ;  but  he  found  he 
could  make  time  to  run  over  and  tell  me  this 
morning,  and  kindly  did  so.  So,  you  see,  sir, 
I  do  not  rightly  know  what  to  do,  joyful  and 
grateful  as  I  feel ;  and  I  thought  I  would  just 
run  over  and  tell  you  the  story  at  once,  and 
ask  if  you  thought  I  might  safely  use  this 
money  without  fear  of  getting  into  any  dif- 
ficulty. You  see  it's  such  a  strange  and 
mysterious  way  of  doing  things  that  I  wont 


Disappointment.  289 

say  but  I  would  think  it  odd  myself  if  I  heard 
another  person  had  come  by  such  a  sum  in 
such  a  way." 

"  I  see  no  possible  objection  to  your  using 
the  money,"  said  Mr.  Bradford.  "  It  certainly 
has  been  intended  for  you,  however  singular 
the  way  in  which  it  has  been  conveyed  to 
you,  or  however  disagreeable  the  manner  of 
the  messenger.  It  has  probably  been  the 
work  of  some  eccentric,  but  kind-hearted  per- 
son who  does  not  choose  to  have  his  good 
deeds  known." 

"  I  can't  say  but  I  would  feel  better  to 
know  whom  it  came  from,  Mr.  Bradford,  grate- 
ful from  my  very  soul  as  I  am.  I  shouldn't 
have  been  too  proud  to  take  such  a  favor 
from  one  who  I  knew  was  a  friend  to  me, 
with  the  hope,  maybe,  of  one  day  making  it 
up,  but  it's  not  so  comfortable  to  have  it 
done  in  this  secret  sort  of  way,  and  as  if  it 
were  something  to  be  ashamed  of." 

"  Do  not  look  at  it  in  that  way,  Richards, 

but  believe  that  your   friend  has  only  acted 
19 


290  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

thus  from  a  wish  that  his  left  hand  should 
not  know  what  his  right  hand  has  done. 
Look  at  it  as  a  gift  from  the  Lord,  and  use 
it  with  an  easy  heart  and  a  clear  conscience, 
as  I  am  sure  your  benefactor  intended." 

"  Well,  may  God  bless  and  prosper  him, 
whoever  he  is,"  said  the  policeman.  "  I  only 
wish  he  knew  what  a  load  is  lifted  from  my 
heart.  And  thank  you  too,  sir,  for  your  ad- 
vice and  for  all  your  interest  in  me." 

While  the  policeman  had  been  telling  his 
story,  Maggie  and  Bessie  had  stood  listening 
eagerly  to  him.  At  first  they  looked  pleased 
as  well  as  interested,  but  when  it  was  made 
plain  to  them  that  some  stranger  had  done 
the  very  thing  on  which  they  had  set  their 
hearts,  a  look  of  blank  dismay  and  disappoint- 
ment overspread  their  faces.  By  the  time  he 
had  finished,  Bessie,  with  her  head  pressed 
against  her  mother's  shoulder,  was  choking 
back  the  tears,  and  Maggie,  with  crimson 
cheeks  and  wide-open  eyes,  was  standing,  the 
very  picture  of  indignation. 


Disafpoin  tm  en  t.  291 

"  Papa,"  she  exclaimed,  as  Mr.  Richards 
said  the  last  words,  "  does  he  really  mean 
that  woman  went  and  paid  that  money  for 
blind  Willie  to  be  cured  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  darling,"  said  her  father,  with  a 
feeling  of  real  pity  for  the  disappointment  of 
'lis  two  little  daughters,  "  but  I  think  —  " 

"  It's  too  bad,"  said  Maggie,  without  wait- 
ing for  her  father  to  finish  his  sentence ; 
"it's  as  mean,  as  mean  as —  Oh!  I  never 
heard  of  anything  so  mean ;  the  horrid  old 
thing !  something  ought  to  be  done  to  her. 
I  know  she  just  did  it  to  make  a  disappoint- 
ment to  Bessie  and  me.  Oh,  dear !  It's 
too  bad  !  "    She  finished  with  a  burst  of  tears. 

"  My  dear  little  girl,"  said  her  father,  "  I 
know  this  is  a  great  disappointment  to  you  ; 
but  you  must  not  let  it  make  you  unreasonable. 
This  person  is  probably  an  entire  stranger  to 
you  ;  and  any  way,  she  could  know  nothing  of 
your  purpose." 

"  You  will  find  plenty  of  uses  for  the 
money,"  said  Uncle  Ruthven,  catching  Bessie 


292  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

up  in  his  arms.  "  Put  it  away  till  you  find 
another  blind  boy,  or  lame  girl,  or  some  old 
sick  body,  who  would  be  glad  of  a  little  help. 
Papa  will  find  you  ways  enough  to  spend   it.' 

"  But,"  said  Bessie,  mournfully,  as  she 
wiped  her  eyes,  "  we  wanted  to  use  it  for 
Willie,  and  we  thought  so  much  about  it, 
and  we  were  so  glad  when  we  thought  how 
pleased  he  would  be  !  Oh !  we  are  very  much 
trialed;  are  we  not,  Maggie  ?  " 

"  Now  the  Lord  love  you  for  your  thought 
of  my  boy,"  said  the  policeman,  "  and  I'm 
sure  I  wish,  for  your  sake,  that  the  old  lady 
had  stopped  short  of  Dr.  Dawson's  door,  keep- 
ing her  money  for  some  other  folks  that  had 
need  of  it,  and  leaving  it  to  you  two  dear 
little  ones  to  do  this  kind  turn  for  my  child. 
But  Willie  will  think  just  as  much,  as  I  do,  of 
your  meaning  to  do  it,  as  if  you'd  done  it 
out  and  out ;  and  if  you'll  allow  it,  madam," 
—  here  he  turned  to  Mrs.  Bradford,  "  I'd  like 
to  bring  him  over,  that  he  may  say  so." 

Mrs.  Bradford  said  she  would  be  very  glad 


Disaff  ointment.  293 

to  see  Willie,  and  asked  Mr.  Richards  to 
bring  him  and  Jennie  over  the  next  day,  and 
let  them  spend  an  hour  or  two  with  the  chil- 
dren. This  she  did,  flunking  it  would  be  a 
pleasure  to  her  little  girls  to  see  the  blind 
boy  and  his  sister,  and  wishing  to  do  all  she 
could  to  console  them  for  their  disappoint- 
ment. 

The  policeman  promised  to  do  this,  and 
then,  once  more  thanking  Mr.  Bradford  and 
his  family  for  all  their  kindness,  he  went 
away. 


XIV. 


AUNT  PATTY. 


UT- Maggie  and  Bessie,  especially  the 
former,  were  quite  determined  not  to 
be  consoled.  They  thought  such  a 
terrible  disappointment  deserved  to  be  sor- 
rowed over  for  some  time  to  come,  and  sat 
with  tearful  faces  and  a  very  mournful  man- 
ner, quite  unable  to  do  anything  but  grieve. 

"  I  hope  I  shall  have  strength  to  bear  it,  but 
I  don't  know,"  said  Maggie,  with  her  pocket- 
handkerchief  to  her  eyes. 

Mamma  told  her  that  the  way  to  bear  a  trial 
was  not  to  sit  fretting  over  it  and  thinking 
how  bad  it  was,  but  to  look  at  its  bright  side, 
and  see  what  good  we  or  others  might  gain 
from  it. 

"  But  this  has  no  bright  side ;  has  it,  mam- 
ma ?  "  asked  Bessie. 


Aunt  Patly.  295 

"  I  think  so,"  replied  her  mother.  "  This 
unknown  friend  has  done  much  more  for  the 
policeman  and  his  family  than  you  could  have 
done,  and  she  has  not  only  given  the  money 
for  Dr.  Dawson,  hut  has,  also,  paid  the  debt 
to  Dr.  Schwitz ;  while  your  uncle  is  kind 
enough  to  allow  you  to  keep  your  money  for 
some  one  else  who  may  need  it." 

"  But,  mamma,"  said  Maggie,  with  her 
eyes  still  covered,  "  Uncle  Ruthven  was  going 
to  pay  the  debt  himself;  papa  told  us  so.  So 
it  would  have  been  just  as  good  for  the  police- 
man." 

"  I  declare,"  said  Mr.  Stanton,  "  I  had 
quite  forgotten  that  I  was  disappointed  too ! 
Well,  well ;  "  and  he  leaned  his  head  on  his 
hand,  and  put  on  a  very  doleful  air.  "  Brad- 
ford," he  continued,  in  the  most  mournful 
tones,  "  since  we  are  not  to  go  over  to  the 
policeman's  this  afternoon,  I  had  thought  we 
might  have  some  other  little  frolic  ;  but  of 
course,  none  of  us  are  in  spirits  for  the  visit 
to  the  menagerie  I  had  intended  to  propose." 


296  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

At  this,  Maggie's  handkerchief  came  down, 
and  Bessie  raised  her  head  from  her  mother's 
shoulder. 

"  I  do  not  know  but  I  might  go,  if  I  could 
make  up  a  pleasant,  happy  party  to  take  with 
me,"  said  Mr.  Stanton.  "You  could  not 
think  of  it,  I  suppose,  Maggie  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Maggie,  half  unwill- 
ing to  be  so  soon  comforted,  and  yet  too  much 
pleased  at  the  thought  of  this  unexpected 
treat  to  be  able  to  refuse  it.  "  Perhaps  I 
might.  I  think  maybe  it  would  do  me  good 
to  see  the  animals."  But  she  still  sat  with  the 
air  of  a  little  martyr,  hoping  that  Uncle  Ruth- 
ven  would  press  her  very  much,  so  that  she 
might  not  seem  to  yield  too  easily. 

u  I  thought  perhaps  it  might  bring  me  a  lit- 
tle comfort  to  see  the  monkeys  eat  peanuts, 
and  then  make  faces  at  me,  while  they  pelted 
me  with  the  shells,"  said  Mr.  Stanton,  in  the 
same  despairing  tone. 

At  this  Bessie  broke  into  a  little  low  laugjj, 
and  the   dimnles   showed    themselves   at   the 


Aunt  Patty.  297 

corners  of  Maggie's  mouth,  though  she  pursed 
up  her  lips,  and  drew  down  her  eyebrows  in 
her  determination  not  to  smile.  But  it  was 
all  useless,  and  in  two  moments  more  Uncle 
Ruthven  had  them  both  as  merry  as  crickets 
over  this  new  pleasure.  Mamma  and  Aunt 
Bessie  were  coaxed  to  give  up  their  shopping 
and  go  with  them,  and  the  three  boys,  Harry, 
Fred,  and  Franky,  being  added  to  the  party, 
they  all  set  off  in  good  spirits. 

The  blind  boy  and  the  terrible  disappoint- 
ment were  not  forgotten,  but  the  children  had 
made  up  their  minds  to  take  mamma's  advice, 
—  bear  it  bravely,  and  look  on  the  bright  side. 

Aunt  Patty  saw  them  go,  and  was  glad  to 
be  left  to  herself,  although  her  own  thoughts 
were  not  very  pleasant  company.  She  had 
done  a  kind  and  generous  action  in  an  un- 
gracious way,  causing  those  whom  she  had 
benefited  to  feel  that  they  would  rather  have 
received  the  favor  from  another  hand,  bring- 
ing a  real  trial  upon  these  dear  children,  and 
vexation  and  regret  to  herself.     She  could  not 


298  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

look  upon  her  work  or  its  consequences  with 
any  satisfaction.  What  though  she  had  done 
a  good  deed,  she  had  not  done  it  quite  in  the 
right  spirit,  and  so  it  seemed  it  had  not 
brought  a  blessing.  Self-will  and  temper  had 
been  suffered  to  overcome  her  once  more. 
Bessie  had  shamed  her  by  the  self-control  which 
she,  an  old  woman,  had  not  shown,  and  she 
had  been  outdone  by  both  these  little  ones  in 
patience  and  submission.  The  policeman's 
family  would  have  been  quite  as  well  off  as 
they  were  now,  and  she  might  still  have  had 
the  long-desired  grove,  the  object  of  so  many 
thoughts  and  wishes,  had  she  never  taken  up 
the  matter,  or  had  she  even  allowed  her  inten- 
tions to  be  known.  She  had  really  had  an  hon- 
est desire  to  keep  her  generous  self-sacrifice  a 
secret,  that  it  should  not  be  published  abroad 
to  all  the  world  ;  but  there  was,  also,  an  ob- 
stinate little  corner  in  her  heart  which  made  her 
determine  to  keep  it  from  her  nephew,  lest  he 
should  oppose  it.  "  For  I  want  none  of  his 
advice  or  interference,"  she  said,  to%  herself; 


Aunt  Patty.  299 

it  being  generally  the  case  that  those  who 
deal  most  largely  in  those  articles  themselves 
are  the  most  unwilling  to  receive  them  from 
others. 

So  the  poor  old  lady  sadly  thought,  taking 
shame  and  repentance  to  herself  for  all  the 
peevishness  and  ill-temper  of  the  last  two 
days,  seeing  where  she  had  acted  wrongly  and 
unwisely,  and  making  new  resolutions  for  the 
future.  Ah,  the  old  besetting  .sin,  strength- 
ened by  long  habit  and  indulgence,  what  a 
tyrant  it  had  become,  and  how  hard  she  had 
to  struggle  with  it,  how  often  was  she  over- 
come !  Yes,  well  might  little  Bessie  be  thank- 
ful that  wise  and  tender  teachers  had  taught 
her  to  control  that  passionate  temper,  which 
later  might  have  proved  such  a  misery  to 
herself  and  her  friends.  Then  came  back  to 
her  the  dear  child's  trusting  words,  "  Jesus 
knows,"  bringing  with  them  a  comforting  sense 
of  his  near  love  and  presence,  and  a  feeling 
that  his  help  and  forgiveness  were  still  open  to 
her,  though  she  had  again  so  sadly  given  way. 


3<X)  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

Oh,  that  she  had  little  Bessie's  simple  faith  ! 
that  this  feeling  of  the  Saviour's  nearness,  this 
constant  looking  to  him  for  help  and  guid- 
ance, which  were  shown  by  this  little  one, 
were  hers  also  !  She  bethought  herself  of  a 
hymn,  which  she  had  heard  Mrs.  Bradford 
teaching  to  her  children  during  the  last  week, 
and  which  they  had  all  sung  together  on  Sun- 
day evening.  She  could  not  recollect  the 
exact  words,  but  it  seemed  to  her  that  it  was 
the  very  thing  she  needed  now.  She  searched 
for  it  through  all  the  hymn-books  and  tune- 
books  on  which  she  could  lay  her  hands,  but 
in  vain  ;  and,  as  was  Aunt  Patty's  way,  the 
more  she  could  not  find  it,  the  more  she 
seemed  to  want  it.  Should  she  ask  the  chil- 
dren for  it  when  they  came  home?  To  do 
so,  would  be  the  same  as  confessing  that  she 
had  done  wrong,  and  that  was  the  hardest 
thing  in  the  world  for  the  proud  old  lady  to 
do.  But  yes,  she  would  do  it !  Nay,  more, 
she  would  no  longer  be  outdone  by  a  little 
child  in  generosity  and  humility.     She  would 


Aunt  Patty.  301 

tell  the  children  that  she  was  sorry  for  her 
unkindness  of  the  morning. 

It  did  Aunt  Patty  no  harm,  but  a  great 
deal  of  good,  that  long  afternoon's  musing  in 
the  silent  house,  where  no  patter  of  children's 
feet,  nor  any  sound  of  young  voices  was 
heard :  for  baby  had  gone  to  her  grand- 
mamma, so  that  even  her  soft  coo  and  joyous 
crow  were  missing  for  some  hours. 

Meanwhile  the  children  were  enjoying  them- 
selves amazingly ;  for  a  visit  to  the  menagerie 
with  Uncle  Ruthven,  who  knew  so  much  of 
the  wild  beasts  and  their  habits,  and  who  told 
of  them  in  such  an  interesting  way,  was  no 
common  treat.  The  day  had  been  as  April- 
like within  as  without,  clouds  and  sunshine 
by  turns,  ending  at  last  in  settled  brightness  ; 
and  no  one  who  had  seen  the  happy  faces  of 
our  Maggie  and  Bessie  would  have  thought 
that  they  could  have  worn  such  woful  looks 
but  a  few  hours  since. 

After  reaching  home,  they  were  passing 
through  the  upper  hall  on  their  way  down  to 


302  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

the  parlor,  where  they  had  left  papa  and  Uncle 
Ruthven,  when  Aunt  Patty's  door  opened,  and 
she  called  them.  They  stood  still  and  hesi- 
tated. 

"  Come  in,"  said  Mrs.  Lawrence  again,  in 
a  gentle  tone  ;  "Aunt  Patty  wants  to  speak  to 
you." 

Maggie  and  Bessie  obeyed,  but  slowly  and 
unwillingly,  as  the  old  lady  grieved  to  see, 
the  former  with  drooping  head  and  downcast 
eyes,  while  Bessie  peeped  shyly  up  at  her  aunt 
from  under  her  eyelashes. 

"  Aunt  Patty  was  cross,  and  vexed  you  this 
morning,"  said  Mrs.  Lawrence  ;  "  but  she  is 
sorry  now.     Come,  kiss  her  and  be  friends." 

In  a  moment  Bessie's  rosebud  of  a  mouth 
was  put  up  for  the  desired  kiss,  but  Maggie 
still  held  back.  It  was  not  that  she  was  un- 
forgiving, but  this  meekness  from  Aunt  Patty 
was  something  so  new,  and  so  contrary  to  all 
the  ideas  she  had  formed  of  her,  that  she  did 
not  know  how  to  believe  in  it,  or  to  under- 
stand it. 


Aunt  Patty.  303 

"  Kiss  her,"  whispered  Bessie  ;  "  it  is  not 
6  bearing  her  burden  '  if  you  don't." 

So  Maggie's  face  was  lifted  also,  and  as  her 
aunt  bent  down  and  kissed  her,  she  was  as- 
tonished to  see  how  gentle  and  kind,  although 
sad,  she  looked.  The  "  corners  "  were  all  out 
of  sight  just  now,  and  Maggie  even  began  to 
feel  sorry  that  she  had  wished  Aunt  Patty  to 
be  u  a  pillar  of  salt  which  might  be  soaked 
away  in  the  rain." 

Mrs.  Lawrence  asked  them  if  they  had  en- 
joyed themselves,  and  put  a  question  or  two 
about  the  menagerie  in  a  pleasant,  gentle  tone, 
which  showed  that  her  ill-temper  was  all  gone. 
Then  there  was  a  moment's  silence,  the  chil- 
dren wishing,  yet  not  exactly  knowing  how,  to 
run  away ;  at  the  end  of  which,  Mrs.  Law- 
rence said,  in  rather  an  embarrassed  voice,  as 
if  she  were  half  ashamed  of  what  she  was  do- 
ing, "  Bessie,  where  did  you  find  that  little 
hymn,  '  Listen,  oh,  listen,  our  Father  all 
holy  '  ? " 

44  Oh,    it    is    in    our   dear    little    c  Chape] 


304  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

Gems,' "  said  the  child.  "  Is  it  not  pretty, 
Aunt  Patty  ?  Mamma  found  it,  and  I  asked 
her  to  teach  it  to  us,  'cause  it  was  so  sweet 
to  say  when  any  of  us  had  been  naughty. 
When  we  sing  it,  I  think  it's  just  like  a  little 
prayer  in  music." 

"  Can  you  find  the  book  for  me  ?  "  asked 
the  old  lady. 

"  Mamma  lent  it  to  Mrs.  Rush.  She  wanted 
to  have  the  music,  so  we  might  have  it  for  one 
of  Our  Sunday-school  hymns.  I'll  ask  mamma 
to  let  you  have  it  as  soon  as  Aunt  May  sends 
it  back." 

"  It  is  of  no  consequence,"  said  Mrs.  Law 
rence,  in  a  tone  in  which  Bessie  fancied  there 
was  some  disappointment.  "  Do  not  let  me 
keep  you  if  you  want  to  go." 

Both  children  turned  toward  the  door,  but 
before  they  reached  it,  Bessie  lingered,  also  de- 
taining Maggie,  who  held  her  hand. 

"Aunt  Patty,"  she  said,  sweetly,  "I  think 
it  is  of  consequence  if  you  want  it.  And  — 
and —  I  know  '  Our  Father  all  holy.'  If  you 
would  like,  I  can  say  it  to  you." 


Aunt  Patty.  305 

"  Come,  then,  darling,"  answered  the  old 
lady,  and  standing  at  her  knee  with  Aunt 
Patty's  hand  resting  on  her  curls,  Bessie 
repeated,  slowly  and  correctly,  this  beautiful 
hymn  :  — 

"  Listen,  oh,  listen,  our  Father  all  holy  ! 
Humble  and  sorrowful,  owning  niy  sin, 
Hear  me  confess,  in  my  penitence  lowly, 
How  in  my  weakness  temptation  came  in. 

"  Pity  me  now,  for,  my  Father,  no  sorrow 
Ever  can  be  like  the  pain  that  I  know ; 
When  I  remember  that  all  through  to-morrow, 
Missing  the  light  of  thy  love,  I  may  go. 

"  For  thy  forgiveness,  the  gift  I  am  seeking, 
Nothing,  oh,  nothing,  I  offer  to  thee  ! 
Thou  to  my  sinful  and  sad  spirit  speaking, 
Giving  forgiveness,  giv'st  all  things  to  me. 

"  Keep  me,  my  Father,  oh,  keep  me  from  falling ! 
I  had  not  sinned,  had  I  felt  thou  wert  nigh ; 
Speak,  when  the  voice  of  the  tempter  is  calling 
So  that  temptation  before  thee  may  fly. 

"  Thoughts  of  my  sin  much  more  humble  shall  make  m©, 
For  thy  forgiveness  I'll  love  thee  the  more ; 
So  keep  me  humble  until  thou  shall  take  me 
"Where  sin  and  sorrow  forever  are  o'er."  * 
20  *  "  Cliapel  Gems." 


306  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

"  '  I  had  not  sinned,  had  I  felt  thou  wert 
nigh,'  "  she  said  again,  after  she  was  through 
with  the  last  line.  "  I  wish  we  could  always 
remember  our  Father  is  nigh ;  don't  you, 
Aunt  Patty  ?  We  know  it,  but  sometimes  we 
forget  it  a  little,  and  then  the  naughtiness 
comes,  and  so  we  grieve  him.  But  is  not  that 
a  sweet  hymn  to  say  when  we  are  sorry  for 
our  sin,  and  want  him  to  help  and  forgive  us 
again  ?  I  felt  it  was  yesterday  when  I  had 
been  angry  and  spoken  so  naughty  to  you." 

"  Oh,  child,  child  !  "  was  all  the  answei 
Mrs.  Lawrence  gave.  Her  heart  had  been 
softened  before,  now  it  was  quite  melted,  and 
putting  her  arm  about  Bessie,  she  drew  her  to 
her  and  kissed  her  on  both  cheeks ;  while 
Maggie  stood  by  wondering  as  she  heard  the 
tremor  of  Aunt  Patty's  voice  and  saw  some- 
thing very  like  a  tear  in  her  eye. 

"  Out  of  the  mouth  of  babes  and  sucklings, 
Thou  hast  perfected  praise,"  murmured  the 
old  lady  to  herself,  when  the  door  had  closed 
behind  the  children.     "  Lord,  make  me  even 


Aunt  Patty,  307 

like  unto  tins  little  child,  granting  me  such 
faith,  such  grace,  such  patience,  such  an  ear- 
nest desire  to  •  do  thy  will,  to  live  only  to  thy 
glory." 

Yes,  such  were  the  lessons  learned  even  by 
an  old  woman  like  Aunt  Patty  from  this  little 
lamb  of  Jesus,  this  little  follower  of  her  blessed 
Lord  and  Master.  "  Even  a  child  is  known  by 
his  doings." 

"  Who  is  for  a  summer  among  the  moun- 
tains ?  "  asked  Mr.  Bradford  as  the  family  sat 
around  the  table  after  dinner. 

"  I  am,  and  I,  and  I ! "  came  from  a  chorus 
of  young  voices,  for  from  papa's  look  it  was 
plainly  to  be  seen  that  the  question  was  ad- 
dressed to  the  children,  and  that  the  grown 
people  had  had  their  say  before.  Even  baby, 
who  was  learning  to  imitate  everything,  made 
a  sound  which  might  be  interpreted  into  an 
"I;"  but  one  little  voice  was  silent. 

"  And  has  my  Bessie  nothing  to  say  ? " 
asked  papa. 

"  Is  the  sea  at  the  mountains,  papa  ?  "  said 
Bessie,  answering  his  question  by  another. 


308  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

16  No,  dear,"  said  her  father,  smiling,  "  but 
among  the  mountains  to  which  we  think  of 
going,  there  is  a  very  beautiful  lake,  on  the 
border  of  which  stands  the  house  in  which 
we  shall  stay." 

"  I  am  very  fond  of  the  sea,  papa,"  an- 
swered Bessie,  "  and  I  think  I  would  perfer 
to  go  to  Quam  Beach  again,  —  I  mean  if  the 
others  liked  it  too." 

u  I  do  not  doubt  we  should  all  enjoy  our- 
selves at  Quam,"  said  Mr.  Bradford,  "  for  we 
spent  a  very  pleasant  summer  there  last  year. 
But  grandmamma  does  not  think  the  sea-side 
good  for  Aunt  Annie's  throat,  and  wishes  to 
take  her  up  among  the  mountains.  The  colo- 
nel's doctor*  has  also  advised  him  to  go  there, 
so  we  shall  not  have  the  same  delightful  party 
we  had  last  summer  if  we  go  to  Quam. 
About  four  miles  from  the  old  homestead, 
and  higher  up  in  the  Chalecoo  Mountains,  is 
this  very  lovely  lake  set  deep  among  the  rocks 
and  woods.  Here  lives  a  man  named  Porter, 
—  you  remember  him,  Aunt  Patty  ?  " 


iunt  Patty.  309 

•'  Certainly,"  answered  Mrs.  Lawrence, 
"  he  has  been  adding  to  and  refitting  his 
house,  with  the  intention  of  taking  boarders,  I 
believe.     Do  you  think  of  going  there  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  remember  even  in  former  days  it 
was  an  airy,  comfortable  old  place,  and  with 
the  improvements  which  I  hear  Porter  has 
made,  I  think  it  will  just  suit  our  party. 
What  do  you  say,  Bessie  ?  Would  you  not 
like  to  go  there  with  all  the  dear  friends, 
rather  than  to  Quam  without  them  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Bessie  ;  "  I  like  my  people 
better  than  I  do  the  sea;  but  then  I  do  wish 
there  was  just  a  little  bit  of  sea  there,  papa." 

Papa  smiled  at  Bessie's  regret  for  the  grand 
old  ocean,  which  she  loved  so  dearly ;  but  as 
he  told  her  of  the  many  new  pleasures  she 
might  find  among  the  mountains,  she  began 
to  think  they  might  prove  almost  as  delightful 
as  those  of  the  last  summer  at  Quam  Beach. 

So  the  plan  was  talked  over  with  pleasure 
by  all.  Papa  and  Uncle  Ruthven  were  to 
start  the  next  morning  to  go  up  to  the  lake, 


310  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

see  the  house,  and,  if  it  suited,  to  make  all  the 
necessary  arrangements.  The  party  was  a 
large  one  to  be  accommodated,  —  grandmam- 
ma and  Aunt  Annie,  "Uncle  Ruthven  and 
Aunt  Bessie,  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Rush,  and  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Bradford  with  all  their  family ; 
and  as  soon  as  it  was  found  to  be  doubtful 
if  this  could  be  done,  all  the  children,  even 
Bessie,  were  in  a  flutter  of  anxiety  lest  they 
should  be  disappointed.  This  was  of  no  use, 
however,  for  the  matter  could  not  be  decided 
till  papa  and  Uncle  Ruthven  returned. 

"  I  have  a  little  private  business  with  Mag- 
gie and  Bessie,"  said  papa,  as  they  rose  from 
the  table.  "  Young  ladies,  may  I  request  the 
honor  of  your  company  in  my  room  for  a 
few  moments  ?  " 

"Wondering  what  could  be  coming  now,  but 
sure  from  papa's  face  that  it  was  something 
very  pleasant,  the  little  girls  went  skipping 
and  dancing  before  him  to  the  library,  where, 
sitting  down,  papa  lifted  Bessie  to  his  knee, 
and  Maggie  upon  the  arm  of  the  chair,  hold* 
ing  her  there  with  his  arm  about  her  waist. 


Aunt  Patty.  31 1 

When  they  were  all  settled,  Mr.  Bradford 
i«aid,  "  Uncle  Ruthven  and  I  have  a  plan 
which  we  thought  might  please  you,  but  if 
you  do  not  like  it,  you  are  to  say  so." 

"  Papa,"  said  Maggie, "  if  it's  any  plan  about 
that  money,  I  think  we'll  have  to  consider 
it  a  little  first.  You  see  it  seems  to  us  as 
if  it  was  very  much  Willie's  money,  and  we 
will  have  to  be  a  little  accustomed  to  think 
it  must  do  good  to  some  one  else." 

This  was  said  with  a  very  grave,  business- 
like air,  which  sat  rather  drolly  upon  our 
merry,  careless  Maggie,  and  her  father  smiled. 

"  I  shall  tell  you,"  he  said,  "  and  then  you 
may  have  the  next  two  days,  till  Uncle  Ruth- 
ven and  I  come  back,  to  consider  it.  Dr.  Daw- 
son thinks  it  necessary  for  Willie  Richards  to 
have  change  of  air  as  soon  as  he  is  able  to 
travel.  Of  course  his  mother  must  go  with 
him,  to  take  care  of  him ;  and,  indeed,  it  is 
needful  for  the  poor  woman  herself  to  have 
mountain  air.  I  have  thought  that  we  might 
find  some  quiet  farmhouse  at  or  near  Chal- 


312  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

ecoo,  where  Willie  and  his  mother  could  go 
for  two  or  three  months  at  a  small  cost ;  but  T 
do  not  believe  it  is  possible  for  the  policeman  to 
afford  even  this,  without  very  great  discomfort 
and  even  suffering  to  himself  and  his  family. 
Now,  how  would  you  like  to  use  the  money 
Uncle  Ruthven  gave  you  to  pay  the  board 
of  Willie  and  his  mother,  and  so  still  spend 
it  for  his  good  and  comfort  ?  As  I  said,  you 
may  take  two  days  to  think  over  this  plan, 
and  if  it  does  not  suit  you,  you  can  say  so." 

Ah  !  this  was  quite  unnecessary,  as  papa 
probably  knew.  This  needed  no  considera- 
tion. Why,  it  was  almost  as  good  as  paying 
Dr.  Dawson,  —  rather  better,  Maggie  thought. 

But  Bessie  could  not  quite  agree  to  this  last. 
"  I  am  very  satisfied,  papa,"  she  said,  "  but 
then  it  would  have  been  so  nice  to  think  our 
money  helped  to  make  blind  Willie  see  his 
mother's  face.', 

"  Maggie,  have  you  forgiven  that  old  wo- 
man yet  ?  "  asked  Fred,  when  his  father  and 
little  sisters  had  joined  the  rest  of  the  family 
in  the  other  room. 


Aunt  Patty.  313 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  said  Maggie.  "  I  think*  she  is 
lovely !  She  has  made  things  a  great  deal  bet 
ter  for  us,  though  she  did  not  know  it,  and 
blind  Willie  is  to  go  to  the  country.  But  you 
are  not  to  talk  about  it,  Fred,  for  he  is  not  to 
be  told  till  it  is  all  fixed,  and  papa  has  found 
the  place  ;  and  we  are  to  pay  the  board,  and  I'm 
so  sorry  I  said  bad  things  about  her,  even  if 
she  was  only  the  messenger,  and  some  one 
sent  her." 

"  Hallo  I  "  said  Fred,  "  anything  more  ?  " 
"I  am  so  full  of  gladness,  I   don't   know 
what  to  do  with  it,"  said  Maggie,  who  very 
often  found  herself  in  this  state  ;  u  but  I  am  so 
very  tired  I  can't  hop  much  to-night." 


XV. 


WILLIE'S    VISIT. 


HERE,"  said  Mrs.  Granby,  holding 
Willie  Richards  at  arm's  length  from 
her,  and  gazing  at  him  with  pride  and 
admiration,  —  "  there,  I'd  like  to  see  the  fellow, 
be  he  man,  woman,  or  child,  that  will  dare  to 
say  my  boy  is  not  fit  to  stand  beside  any 
gentleman's  son  in  the  land." 

Certainly  Mrs.  Granby  had  no  need  to  be 
ashamed  of  the  object  of  her  affectionate  care. 
His  shoes,  though  well  worn  and  patched,  had 
been  blacked  and  polished  till  they  looked 
quite  respectable ;  the  suit  made  from  his 
father's  old  uniform  was  still  neat  and  whole, 
for  Willie's  present  quiet  life  was  a  great 
saving  to  his  clothes,  if  that  were  any  comfort ; 
his  white  collar  was  turned  back  and  neatly 


Willie's    Visit.  315 

tied  with  a  black  ribbon,  and  Mrs.  Granby  had 
just  combed  back  the  straight  locks  from  his 
pale,  fair  forehead  in  a  jaunty  fashion  which 
she  thoifght  highly  becoming  to  him.  There 
was  a  look  of  hope  and  peace  on  his  delicate 
face  which  and  not  been  there  for  many  a  long 
day,  for  last  night  his  father  had  told  him  that 
the  doctor  had  an  almost  sure  hope  of  restor- 
ing his  sight,  if  he  were  good  and  patient,  and 
that  the  operation  was  to  take  place  the  next 
week.  The  news  had  put  fresh  heart  and  life 
into  the  poor  boy,  and  now,  as  Mrs.  Granby 
said  this,  he  laughed  aloud,  and  throwing  both 
arms  about  her  neck,  and  pressing  his  cheek 
to  hers,  said,  — 

"  Thank  you,  dear  Auntie  Granby.  I  know 
I  am  nice  when  you  fix  me  up.  Pretty  soon 
I  shall  see  how  nice  you  make  me  look." 

"  Come  now,  Jennie,  bring  along  that  mop 
of  yours,"  said  Mrs.  Granby,  brandishing  a 
comb  at  Jennie,  and,  half  laughing,  half 
shrinking,  the  little  girl  submitted  to  put  her 
head  into  Mrs.  Granby's  hands.     But,  as  had 


316  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

been  the  case  very  often  before,  it  was  soon 
given  up  as  a  hopeless  task.  Jennie's  short, 
crisp  curls  defied  both  comb  and  brush,  and 
would  twist  themselves  into  close,  rouifd  rings, 
lying  one  over  another  after  their  own  will  and 
fashion. 

"  I  don't  care,"  said  Jennie,  when  Mrs. 
Granby  pretended  to  be  very  angry  at  the  re- 
bellious hair,  —  "I  don't  care  if  it  wont  be 
smoothed  ;  it  is  just  like  farher's,  morher  says 
so  ;  and  anything  like  him  is  good  enough  for 
me." 

16  Well,  I  wont  say  no  to  that,"  said  Mrs. 
Granby,  putting  down  the  brush  and  throwing 
Jennie's  dress  over  her  head.  "  The  more 
you're  like  him  in  all  ways,  the  better  you'll 
be,  Jennie  Richards,  you  mind  that." 

"  I  do  mind  it,"  said  Jennie.  "  I  know 
he's  the  best  farher  ever  lived.  Isn't  he, 
Willie  ?  " 

"  S'pose  that's  what  all  young  ones  says 
of  their  fathers  and  mothers,"  answered  Mrs. 
Granby,  "  even  s'posin'  the  fathers  and  mothers 


Willie's    Visit,  317 

aint  much  to  boast  of.  But  you're  nearer  t'aQ 
truth,  Jennie,  than  some  of  them,  and  it's  all 
right  and  nat'ral  that  every  child  should  think 
its  own  folks  the  best.  There's  little  Miss 
Bradfords,  what  you're  goin'  up  to  see,  they'd 
be  ready  to  say  the  same  about  their  pa." 

"  And  good  reason,  too,"  chimed  in  Mrs. 
Richards.  "  He's  as  true  and  noble  a  gentle- 
man as  ever  walked,  and  a  good  friend  to  us." 

"  That's  so,"  answered  Mrs.  Granby,  "  I'll 
not  gainsay  you  there  neither.  And  that's 
come  all  along  of  your  man  just  speaking  a 
kind  word  or  two  to  that  stray  lamb  of  his. 
And  if  I'd  a  mind  to  contradick  you,  which 
I  haint,  there's  Sergeant  Richards  himself  to 
back  your  words.  The  bairns  is  'most  ready, 
sergeant;  and  me  and  Mary  was  just  savin'  how 
strange  it  seemed  that  such  a  friend  as  Mr. 
Bradford  was  raised  up  for  you  just  along  of  a 
bit  of  petti  11'  you  give  that  lost  child.  It's  as 
the  gentleman  says,  — '  bread  cast  upon  the 
waters ; '  but  who'd  ha'  thought  to  see  it  come 
back  the  way  it  does  ?  It  beats  all  how  things 
do  come  around." 


318  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

"  Under  God's  guidance,"  said  the  police- 
man, softly.  "  The  Lord's  ways  are  past  find- 
ing out." 

"  I'll  agree  to  that  too,"  answered  Mrs. 
Granby,  "  bein'  in  an  accommodatin'  humor 
this  afternoon.  There,  now,  Jennie,  you're 
ready.  Mind  your  manners  now,  and  behave 
pretty,  and  don't  let  Willie  go  to  falling  down 
them  long  stairs  at  Mrs.  Bradford's,  There, 
kiss  your  mother,  both  of  you,  and  go  away 
with  your  father.  I  s'pose  he  aint  got  no  time 
to  spare.  I'll  go  over  after  them  in  an  hour 
or  so,  Sergeant  Richards." 

Here  Tommy  began  very  eagerly  with  his 
confused  jargon  which  no  one  pretended  to 
understand  but  Jennie. 

."What    does  he  say,  Jennie?"  asked  the 
father. 

"  He  says,  '  Nice  little  girl,  come  soni3 
more.  Bring  her  doggie,'  "  said  Jennie  ;  then 
turning  to  her  mother,  she  asked,  "  Morher, 
do  you  b'lieve  you  can  understand  Tommy  till 
I  come  back  ?  " 


Willi  J  s    Visit.  319 

€t  I'll  try,"  said  her  mother,  smiling  ;  "  if  I 
cannot,  Tommy  and  I  must  be  patient.  Run 
now,  father  is  waiting." 

Mrs.  Granby.  followed  them  to  the  door, 
and  even  to  the  gate,  where  she  stood  and 
watched  them  till  they  were  out  of  sight,  for, 
as  she  told  Mrs.  Richards,  "  it  did  her  a  heap 
of  good  to  see  the  poor  things  goin'  off  for  a 
bit  of  a  holiday." 

The  policeman  and  his  children  kept  stead- 
ily on  till  they  reached  the  park  near  which 
Mr.  Bradford  lived,  where  they  turned  in. 

"  How  nice  it  is!  "  said  Willie  as  the  fresh, 
sweet  air  blew  across  his  face,  bringing  the 
scent  of  the  new  grass  and  budding  trees. 
"  It  seems  a  little  like  the  country  here. 
Don't  you  wish  we  lived  in  the  country, 
father  ?  " 

"  I  would  like  it,  Willie,  more  for  your  sake 
than  for  anything  else,  and  I  wish  from  my 
heart  I  could  send  you  and  mother  off  to  the 
country  this  summer,  my  boy.  But  you  see 
it  can't  be  managed.     But  I   guess   somehow 


320  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

father  will  contrive  to  send  you  now  and  then 
up  to  Central  Park,  or  for  a  sail  down  the  bay 
or  up  the  river.  And  you  and  Jennie  can 
come  over  here  every  day  and  play  about 
awhile,  and  that  will  put  a  bit  of  strength  in 
you,  if  you  can't  get  out  into  the  country.'' 

"  And  then  I  shall  see  ;  sha'n't  1,  father  ? 
I  hear  the  birds.  Are  they  hopping  about  like 
they  used  to,  over  the  trees,  so  tame  and 
nice  ?  " 

u  Yes,"  answered  his  father,  "  and  here  we 
are  by  the  water,  where's  a  whole  heap  of  'em 
come  down  for  a  drink."  In  his  new  hope, 
Willie  took  a  fresh  interest  in  all  about  him. 

"  Oh,  I  hear  'em ! "  said  Willie,  eagerly, 
"  and  soon  I'll  see  'em.  Will  it  be  next  week, 
father  ?  "  and  he  clasped  tightly  the  hand  he 
held. 

"  I  don't  know  about  next  week,  sonny.  I 
believe  your  eyes  have  to  be  bandaged  for  a 
while,  lest  the  light  would  be  too  bright  for 
them,  while  they're  still  weak,  but  you  will 
have  patience  for  that ;  wont  you,  Willie  ?  " 


Willie's    Visit,  321 

Willie  promised,  for  it  seemed   to  him  that 
he  could  have  patience  and  courage   for   any 
thing  now. 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Jennie,  as  they  reached  Mr. 
Bradford's  house,  and  went  up  the  steps, 
"  don't  I  wish  I  lived  in  a  house  like  this  ! " 

"  Don't  be  wishing  that,"  said  her  father. 
"  You'll  see  a  good  many  things  here  such  as 
you  never  saw  before,  but  you  mustn't  go  to 
wishing  for  them  or  fretting  after  the  same. 
We've  too  much  to  be  thankful  for,  my  lassie, 
to  be  hankering  for  things  which  are  not  likely 
ever  to  be  ours." 

"  'Tis  no  harm  to  wish  for  them ;  is  it,  fat- 
her ? "  asked  Jennie,  as  they  waited  for  the 
door  to  be  opened. 

"It's  not  best  even  to  wish  for  what's  be- 
yond our  reach,"  said  her  father,  "  lest  we 
should  get  to  covet  our  neighbors'  goods,  or  to 
be  discontented  with  our  own  lot ;  and  certainly 
we  have  no  call  to  do  that." 

Richards  asked  for  Mrs.  Bradford,  and  she 
presently  came   down,  bringing   Maggie  and 
21 


322  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

Bessie  with  her.  Jennie  felt  a  little  strange 
and  frightened  at  first  when  her  father  left 
her.  Making  acquaintance  with  Maggie  and 
Bessie  in  her  own  home  was  a  different 
thing  from  coming  to  visit  them  in  their  large, 
handsome  house,  and  they  scarcely  seemed  to 
her  like  the  same  little  girls.  But  when  Mag- 
gie took  her  up-stairs,  and  showed  her  the 
baby-house  and  dolls,  she  forgot  everything 
else,  and  looked  at  them,  quite  lost  in  admira- 
tion. 

Willie  was  not  asked  to  look  at  anything. 
The  little  sisters  had  thought  of  what  he  had 
said  the  day  they  went  to  see  him,  and  agreed 
that  Bessie  was  to  take  care  of  him  while  Mag- 
gie entertained  Jennie.  He  asked  after  Flossy, 
and  the  dog  was  called,  and  behaved  quite  as 
well  as  he  had  done  when  he  saw  Willie  before, 
lying  quiet  in  his  arms  as  long  as  the  blind  boy 
chose  to  hold  him,  and  putting  his  cold  nose 
against  his  face  in  an  affectionate  way  which 
delighted  Willie  highly. 

There  was   no  difficulty  in  amusing  Jennie, 


Willie's    Visit.  323 

who  had  eyes  for  all  that  was  to  be  seen,  and 
who  thought  she  could  never  be  tired  of  hand- 
ling and  looking  at  such  beautiful  toys  and 
books.  But  perhaps  the  children  would  hardly 
have  known  how  to  entertain  Willie  for  any 
length  of  time,  if  a  new  pleasure  had  not 
accidentally  been  furnished  for  him. 

Maggie  and  Bessie  had  just  taken  him  and 
his  sister  into  the  nursery  to  visit  the  baby, 
the  canary  bird,  and  other  wonders  there,  when 
there  came  sweet  sounds  from  below.  Willie 
instantly  turned  to  the  door  and  stood  listen- 
ing. 

"  Who's  making  that  music  ?  "  he  asked 
presently  in  a  whisper,  as  if  he  were  afraid  to 
lose  a  note. 

"  Mamma  and  Aunt  Bessie,"  said  Maggie. 

"  Would  you  and  Jennie  like  to  go  down  to 
the  parlor  and  hear  it  ?  "  asked  Bessie. 

Willie  said"  Yes,"  very  eagerly,  but  Jennie 
did  not  care  to  go  where  the  grown  ladies 
were,  and  said  she  would  rather  stay  up-stairs 
if  Maggie  did  not  mind. 


324  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

Maggie  consented,  and  Bessie  went  off, 
leading  the  blind  boy  by  the  hand.  It  was 
both  amusing  and  touching  to  see  the  watch 
she  kept  over  this  child  who  was  twice  her 
own  size,  guiding  his  steps  with  a  motherly 
sort  of  care,  looking  up  at  him  with  wistful 
pity  and  tenderness,  and  speaking  to  him  in  a 
soft,  coaxing  voice  such  as  one  would  use  to 
an  infant. 

They  were  going  down-stairs  when  they  met 
Aunt  Patty  coming  up.  She  passed  them  at 
the  landing,  then  suddenly  turning,  said,  in 
the  short,  quick  way  to  which  Bessie  was  by 
this  time  somewhat  accustomed,  "  Children ! 
Bessie!  This  is  very  dangerous  !  You  should 
not  be  leading  that  poor  boy  down-stairs. 
Where  are  your  nurses,  that  they  do  not 
see  after  you  ?  Take  care,  take  care  !  Look 
where  you  are  going  now  !  Carefully,  care- 
fully ! " 

Now  if  Aunt  Patty  had  considered  the 
matter,  she  would  have  known  she  was  taking 
the  very   way  to  bring  about  the  thing   she 


Willie's    Visit.  325 

dreaded.  Willie  had  been  going  on  fearlessly, 
listening  to  his  gentle  little  guide  ;  but  at  the 
sound  of  the  lady's  voice  he  started,  and  as 
she  kept  repeating  her  cautions,  he  grew 
nervous  and  uneasy ;  while  Bessie,  instead  of 
watching  his  steps  and  taking  heed  to  her  own, 
kept  glancing  up  at  her  aunt  with  an  uncom- 
fortable sense  of  being  watched  by  those  sharp 
eyes. 

However,  they  both  reached  the  lower  hall 
in  safety,  where  Bessie  led  her  charge  to  the 
parlor-door.  "  Mamma,"  she  said,  "  Willie 
likes  music  very  much.  I  suppose  you  would 
just  as  lief  he  would  listen  to  you  and  Aunt 
Bessie." 

"  Certainly,"  said  mamma.  "  Bring  him 
in." 

But  before  they  went  in,  Willie  paused  and 
turned  to  Bessie. 

44  Who  was  that  on  the  stairs  ?  "  he  asked  in 
a  whisper. 

"Oh!  that  was  only  Aunt  Patty,"  answered 
the  little  girl.     "  You  need  not  be  afraid  of 


326  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

her.  She  don't  mean  to  be  so  cross  as  she  is  ; 
but  she  is  old,  and  had  a  great  deal  of  trouble, 
and  not  very  wise  people  to  teach  her  better 
when  she  was  little.  So  she  can't  help  it 
sometimes." 

"  No,"  said  Willie,  slowly,  as  if  he  were 
trying  to  recollect  something,  "  I  am  not 
afraid  ;  but  then  I  thought  I  had  heard  that 
voice  before." 

"  Oh,  I  guess  not,"  said  Bessie  ;  and  then 
she  took  him  in  and  seated  him  in  her  own 
little  arm-chair,  close  to  the  piano. 

No  one  who  had  noticed  the  way  in  which 
the  blind  boy  listened  to  the  music,  or  seen 
the  look  of  perfect  enjoyment  on  his  pale,  pa- 
tient face,  could  have  doubted  his  love  for  the 
sweet  sounds.  While  Mrs.  Bradford  and  Miss 
Rush  played  or  sang,  he  sat  motionless,  not 
moving  a  finger,  hardly  seeming  to  breathe, 
lest  he  should  lose  one  note. 

"  So  you  are  very  fond  of  music  ;  are  you, 
Willie?"  said  Mrs.  Bradford,  when  at  length 
they  paused. 


Willie's    Visit.  327 

?4  Yes,  ma'am,  very,"  said  be,  modestly  ; 
''  but  I  never  heard  music  like  that  before. 
It  seems  'most  as  if  it  was  alive." 

"  So  it  does,"  said  Bessie,  while  the  ladies 
smiled  at  the  boy's  innocent  admiration. 

"  I  think  there's  a  many  nice  things  in  this 
house,"  continued  Willie,  who,  in  his  very 
helplessness  and  unconsciousness  of  the  many 
new  objects  which  surrounded  him,  was  more 
at  his  ease  than  his  sister. 

"  And  mamma  is  the  nicest  of  all,"  said 
Bessie.  "  You  can't  think  how  precious  she 
is,  Willie  !  " 

Mrs.  Bradford  laughed  as  she  put  back  her 
little  daughter's  curls,  and  kissed  her  fore- 
head. 

"  I  guess  she  must  be,  when  she  is  your 
mother,"  said  Willie.  "  You  must  all  be 
very  kind  and  good  people  here  ;  and  I  wish, 
oh,  I  wish  it  was  you  and  your  sister  who 
gave  the  money  for  Dr.  Dawson.  But  never 
mind  ;  I  thank  you  and  love  you  all  the  same 
as  if  you  had  done  it,  only  I  would  like   to 


328  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

think  it  all  came  through  you.  And  father 
says  "  — 

Here  Willie  started,  and  turned  his  sight- 
less eyes  towards  the  open  door,  through 
which  was  again  heard  Mrs.  Lawrence's  voice, 
as  she  gave  directions  to  Patrick  respecting  a 
parcel  she  was  about  to  send  home. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Willie  ?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Bradford. 

"  Nothing,  ma'am  ;  "  answered  the  child,  as 
a  flush  came  into  his  pale  cheeks,  and  rising 
from  his  chair,  he  stood  with  his  head  bent 
forward,  listening  intently,  till  the  sound  of 
Aunt  Patty's  voice  ceased,  and  the  opening 
and  closing  of  the  front-door  showed  that  she 
had  gone  out,  when  he  sat  down  again  with  a 
puzzled  expression  on  his  face. 

"  Does  anything  trouble  you  ?  "  asked  Mri. 
Bradford. 

"  No,  ma'am;  but  —  but  —  I  know  I'ie 
heard  it  before." 

"  Heard  what  ?  " 

"  That  voice,  ma'am  ;  Miss  Bessie  said  't 
was  her  aunt's. 


Willie's    Visit.  329 

* i  But  you  couldn't  have  heard  it,  you 
know,  Willie,"  said  Bessie,  "  'cause  you 
never  came  to  this  house  before,  and  Aunt 
Patty  never  went  to  yours." 

These  last  words  brought  it  all  back  to  the 
blind  boy.  He  knew  now.  "  But  she  did" 
he  said,  eagerly,  — u  she  did  come  to  our 
house.  That's  the  one ;  that's  the  voice  that 
scolded  mother  and  Auntie  Granby  and  Jen- 
nie, and  that  put  the  money  into  the  Bible 
when  we  didn't  know  it!  " 

Mrs.  Bradford  and  Miss  Rush  looked  at  one 
another  with  quick,  surprised  glances  ;  but 
Bessie  said,  "  Oh !  you  must  be  mistaken, 
Willie.  It's  quite  ^possible.  Aunt  Patty 
does  not  know  you  or  your  house,  and  she 
never  went  there.  Besides,  she  does  not  "  — 
44  Does  not  like  you  to  have  the  money,"  she 
was  about  to  say,  when  she  thought  that  this 
would  be  neither  kind  nor  polite,  and  checked 
herself. 

But  Willie  was  quite  as  positive  as  she  was, 
and  with  a  little  shake  of  his  head,  he  said, 


330  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

"  Ever  since  I  was  blind,  I  always  knew  a 
voice  when  I  heard  it  once.  I  wish  Jennie  or 
Mrs.  Granby  had  seen  her,  they  could  tell 
you  ;  but  I  know  that's  the  voice.  It  was 
you  sent  her,  after  all,  ma'am;  was  it  not  ?  " 
and  he  turned  his  face  toward  Mrs.  Bradford. 

u  No,  Willie,  I  did  not  send  her,"  an- 
swered the  lady,  with  another  look  at  Miss 
Hush,  "  nor  did  any  one  in  this  house." 

But  in  spite  of  this,  and  all  Bessie's  persua- 
sions and  assurances  that  the  thing  was  quite 
impossible,  Willie  was  not  to  be  convinced 
that  the  voice  he  had  twice  heard  was  not 
that  of  the  old  lady  who  had  left  the  money 
in  the  Bible  ;  and  he  did  not  cease  regretting 
that  Jennie  had  not  seen  her. 

But  to  have  Jennie  or  Mrs.  Granby  see  her 
was  just  what  Mrs.  Lawrence  did  not  choose, 
and  to  avoid  this,  she  had  gone  out,  not  being 
able  to  shut  herself  up  in  her  own  room, 
which  was  undergoing  a  sweeping  and  dust- 
ing. She  had  not  been  afraid  of  the  sightless 
eyes  of  the  little  boy  when   she  met  him  on 


Willie's    Visit.  331 

the  stairs,  never  thinking  that  he  might  recog- 
nize her  voice  ;  but  she  had  taken  good  care 
not  to  meet  those  of  Jennie,  so  quick  and 
bright,  and  which  she  felt  would  be  sure  to 
know  her  in  an  instant.  But  secure  as  Aunt 
Patty  thought  herself,  when  she  was  once  out 
of  the  house,  that  treacherous  voice  of  hers 
had  betrayed  her,  not  only  to  Willie's  sensi- 
tive ears,  but  to  that  very  pair  of  eyes  which 
she  thought  she  had  escaped.  For,  as  the 
loud  tones  had  reached  Maggie  and  Jennie  at 
their  play,  the  latter  had  dropped  the  toy  she 
held,  and  exclaimed,  in  a  manner  as  startled 
as  Willie's,  "  There's  that  woman  !  " 

"  What  woman  ?  "  asked  Maggie. 

"  The  old  woman  who  brought  the  money 
to  our  house.     I  know  it  is  her  " 

"  Oh,  no,  it  is  not,"  said  Maggie ;  "  that's 
Aunt  Patty,  and  she's  an  old  lady,  not  an  old 
woman,  and  she  wouldn't  do  it  if  she  could. 
She  is  real  mean,  Jennie,  and  I  think  that 
person  who  took  you  the  money  was  real  good 
&*d  kind,  even  if  we  did  feel  a  little  bad  about 


332  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

it  at  first.  Aunt  Patty  would  never  do  it,  I 
know.  Bessie  and  I  try  to  like  her,  and  just 
as  we  begin  to  do  it  a  little  scrap,  she  goes  and 
does  something  that  makes  us  mad  again,  so 
it's  no  use  to  try." 

"  But  she  does  talk  just  like  the  lady  who 
came  to  our  house,"  persisted  Jennie. 

"  You  can  see  her  if  you  have  a  mind  to," 
said  Maggie,  "  and  then  you'll  know  it  is  not 
her.  Come  and  look  over  the  balusters,  but 
don't  let  her  see  you,  or  else  she'll  say,  '  What 
are  you  staring  at,  child  ?  '  " 

They  both  ran  to  the  head  of  the  stairs, 
where  Jennie  peeped  over  the  balusters. 

"  It  is  her !  "  she  whispered  to  Maggie.  "  I 
am  just  as  sure,  as  sure.  She  is  all  dressed 
up  nice  to-day,  and  the  other  day  she  had  on 
an  old  water-proof  cloak,  and  a  great  big  um- 
brella, and  she  didn't  look  so  nice.  But  she's 
the  very  same." 

"  Let's  go  down  and  tell  mamma,  and  see 
what  she  says,"  said  Maggie,  as  the  front-door 
closed  after  Aunt  Patty. 


Willie's    Visit,  333 

Away  they  both  rushed  to  the  parlor ;  but 
when  Jennie  saw  the  ladies,  she  was  rather 
abashed  and  hung  back  a  little,  while  Maggie 
broke  forth  with,  "Mamma,  I  have  the  great- 
est piece  of  astonishment  to  tell  you  you  ever 
heard.  Jennie  says  she  is  quite  sure  Aunt 
Patty  is  the  woman  who  put  the  money  in  the 
Bible  and  paid  Dr.  Dawson.  But,  mamma,  it 
can't  be  ;  can  it  ?  Aunt  Patty  is*  quite  too  dog- 
in-the-mangery  ;  is  she  not  ?  " 

"  Maggie,  dear,"  said  her  mother,  "  that  is 
not  a  proper  way  for  you  to  speak  of  your 
aunt,  nor  do  I  think  it  is  just  as  you  say. 
What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  " 

"Why,  mamma,  you  know  the  dog  in  the 
manger  could  not  eat  the  hay  himself,  and 
would  not  let  the  oxen  eat  it ;  and  Aunt 
Patty  would  not  buy  the  grove,  or  tell  papa 
what  was  the  reason  ;  so  was  she  not  like  the 
dog  in  the  manger  ?  " 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Mrs.  Bradford,  smiling 
at  Maggie's  reasoning.  "  The  two  cases  are 
not  at  all  alike.     As  you  say,  the  dog  would 


334  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

not  let  the  hungry  oxen  eat  the  hay  he  could 
not  use  himself,  but  because  Aunt  Patty  did 
not  choose  to  buy  the  grove,  we  have  no  right 
to  suppose  she  would  not  make,  or  has  not 
made  some  other  good  use  of  her  money , 
and  if  she  chooses  to  kesp  that  a  secret,  she 
has  a  right  to  do  so.  No,  I  do  not  think 
we  can  call  her  like  the  dog  in  the  manger, 
Maggie." 

"  But  do  you  believe  she  gave  up  the  grove 
for  that,  mamma  ?  She  would  not  be  so  good 
and  generous  ;  would  she  ?  " 

"  Yes,  dear,  I  think  she  would.  Aunt  Patty 
is  a  very  generous-hearted  woman,  although 
her  way  of  doing  things  may  be  very  differ- 
ent from  that  of  some  other  people.  Mind, 
I  did  not  say  that  she  did  do  this,  but  Willie 
and  Jennie  both  seem  to  be  quite  positive  that 
she  is  the  old  lady  who  was  at  their  house, 
and  I  think  it  is  not  at  all  unlikely.'' 

"  And  shall  you  ask  her,  mamma  ?  " 

"  No.  If  it  was  Aunt  Patty  who  has  been 
so  kind,  she  has  shown  very  plainly  that  she 


Willie's    Visit.  335 

did  not  wish  to  be  questioned,  and  I  shall  say 
nothing,  nor  must  you.  We  will  not  talk 
about  it  any  more  now.  We  will  wind  up 
the  musical  box,  and  let  Willie  see  if  he 
likes  it  as  well  as  the  piano. " 

Yery  soon  after  this,  Mrs.  Granby  came  for* 
Willie  and  Jennie,  and  no  sooner  were  they 
outside  of  the  door  than  they  told  of  the 
wonderful  discovery  they  had  made.  Mrs. 
Granby  said  she  was  not  at  all  astonished, 
"  one  might  have  been  sure  such  a  good  turn 
came  out  of  that  house,  somehow." 


XVI. 


WILLIE'S  RECOVERY. 


ILLIE  seemed  amazingly  cheered  up 
and  amused  by  his  visit,  and  told 
eagerly  of  all  he  had  heard  and  no- 
ticed, with  a  gay  ring  in  his  voice  which  de- 
lighted his  mother.  It  was  not  so  with  Jennie, 
although  she  had  come  home  with  her  hands 
full  of  toys  and  picture-books,  the  gifts  of 
the  kind  little  girls  she  had  been  to  see.  She 
seemed  dull,  and  her  mother  thought  she  was 
tired  of  play  and  the  excitement  of  seeing  so 
much  that  was  new  and  strange  to  her.  But 
Mrs.  Richards  soon  found  it  was  worse  than 
tins. 

"  I  don't  see  why  I  can't  keep  this   frock 
on,"  said   Jennie,  fretfully,  as   Mrs.   Granby 


Willie's  Recovery  337 

began  to  unfasten  her  dress,  which  was  kept 
for  Sundays  and  holidays. 

"  Surely,  you  don't  want  to  go  knocking 
round  here,  playing  and  working  in  your  best 
frock  !  "  said  Mrs.  Granby.  "  What  would  it 
look  like  ?  " 

44  The  other  one  is  torn,"  answered  Jennie, 
pouting,  and  twisting  herself  out  of  Mrs. 
Granby's  hold. 

44  Didn't  I  mend  it  as  nice  as  a  new  pin  ?  " 
said  Mrs.  Granby,  showing  a  patch  nicely  put 
in  during  Jennie's  absence. 

44  It's  all  faded  and  ugly,"  grumbled  Jen- 
nie. 44 1  don't  see  why  I  can't  be  dressed  as 
nice  as  other  folks." 

44  That  means  you  want  to  be  dressed  like 

little  Miss  Bradfords,"  answered  Mrs.  Granby. 

*4  And  the    reason  why  you   aint   is   because 

yoUr  folks  can't  afford  it,  my  dearie.      Don't 

you  think  your  mother  and  me  would  like  to 

see  you  rigged  out  like  them,  if  we  had  the 

way  to  do  it  ?     To  be  sure  we  would.     But 

you    see    we    can't   do  more    than    keep   you 
22 


33&  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

clean  and  whole;  so  there's  no  use  wish- 
in'." 

Jennie  said  no  more,  but  submitted  to  have 
the  old  dress  put  on  ;  but  the  pleasant  look 
did  not  come  back  to  her  face. 

Anything  like  sulkiness  or  ill-temper  from 
Jennie  was  so  unusual  that  the  other  children 
listened  in  surprise  ;  but  her  mother  saw  very 
plainly  what  was  the  matter,  and  hoping  it 
would  wear  off,  thought  it  best  to  take  no 
notice  of  it  at  present. 

The  dress  fastened,  Jennie  went  slowly  and 
unwillingly  about  her  task  of  putting  away 
her  own  and  her  brother's  clothes  ;  not  doing 
so  in  her  usual  neat  and  orderly  manner  hut 
folding  them  carelessly  and  tumbling  them 
into  the  drawers  in  a  very  heedless  fashion. 
Mrs.  Granby  saw  this,  but  she,  too,  let  it  pass, 
thinking  she  would  put  things  to  rights  when 
Jennie  was  in  bed. 

Pretty  soon  Tommy  came  to  Mrs.  Granby 
with  some  long  story  told  in  the  curious  jargon 
of  which  she  could  not  understand  one  word 


Willie's  Recovery.  339 

"  What  does  he  say,  Jennie  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  Jennie,  crossly. 
"  I  sha'n't  be  troubled  to  talk  for  him  all  the 
time.  He  is  big  enough  to  talk  for  himself, 
and  he  just  may  do  it." 

"  Jennie,  Jennie,"  said  her  mother,  in  a 
grieved  tone. 

Jennie  began  to  cry. 

"  Come  here,"  said  Mrs.  Richards,  thinking 
a  little  soothing  would  be  better  than  fault- 
finding. "  The  baby  is  asleep  ;  come  and  fix 
the  cradle  so  I  can  put  her  in  it." 

The  cradle  was  Jennie's  especial  charge, 
and  she  never  suffered  any  one  else  to  arrange 
it ;  but  now  she  pulled  the  clothes  and  pillows 
about  as  if  they  had  done  something  to  offend 
her. 

"  Our  baby  is  just  as  good  as  Mrs.  Brad 
ford's,"  she  muttered,  as  her  mother  laid  the 
infant  in  the  cradle. 

"  I  guess  we  think  she  is  the  nicest  baby  go 
ing,"  said  Mrs.  Richards,  cheerfully ;  "  and 
it's  likely  Mrs.  Bradford  thinks  the  same  of 
hers." 


34-0  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

"  I  don't  see  why  Mrs.  Bradford's  baby  has 
to  have  a  better  cradle  than  ours,"  muttered 
Jennie.  "  Hers  is  all  white  muslin  and  pink, 
fixed  up  so  pretty,  and  ours  is  old  and 
shabby." 

"  And  I  don't  believe  Mrs.  Bradford's  baby 
has  a  quilt  made  for  her  by  her  own  little  sis- 
ter," answered  the  mother. 

"  And  it  has  such  pretty  frocks,  all  work 
and  tucks  and  nice  ribbons,"  said  Jennie,  de- 
termined not  to  be  coaxed  out  of  her  envy 
and  ill-humor,  u  and  our  baby  has  to  do  with 
just  a  plain  old  slip  with  not  a  bit  of  trimming. 
'Taint  fair  ;  it's  real  mean  !  " 

"  Jennie,  Jennie,"  said  her  mother  again, 
"  I  am  sorry  I  let  you  go,  if  it  was  only  to 
come  home  envious  and  jealous  after  the 
pretty  things  you've  seen." 

"  But  haven't  we  just  as  good  a  right  to  have 
them  as  anybody  else  ?  "  sobbed  Jennie,  with 
her  head  in  her  mother's  lap. 

"  Not  since  the  Lord  has  not  seen  fit  to  give 
them  to  us,"  answered  Mrs.  Richards.     "  We 


Willie's  Recovery.  341 

haven't  a  right  to  anything.  All  he  gives  us 
is  of  his  goodness  ;  nor  have  we  a  right  to  fret 
because  he  has  made  other  folks  better  off 
than  us.  All  the  good  things  and  riches  are 
his  to  do  with  -as  he  sees  best ;  and  if  one  has 
a  larger  portion  than  another,  he  has  his  own 
reasons  for  it,  which  is  not  for  us  to  quarrel 
with.  And  of  all  others,  I  wouldn't  have  you 
envious  of  Mrs.  Bradford's  family  that  have 
done  so  much  for  us." 

"  Yes,"  put  in  Mrs.  Granby,  with  her 
cheery  voice  ;  "  them's  the  ones  that  ought  to 
be  rich  that  don't  spend  all  their  money  on 
themselves,  that  makes  it  do  for  the  comfort 
of  others  that's  not  as  well  off,  and  for  the 
glory  of  Him  that  gives  it.  Now,  if  it  had 
been  you  or  me,  Jennie,  that  had  so  much 
given  to  us,  maybe  we'd  have  been  selfish 
and  stingy  like  ;  so  the  Lord  saw  it  wasn't 
best  for  us." 

"  I  don't  think  anything  could  have  made 
you  selfish  or  stingy,  Janet  Granby,"  said  Mrs. 
Richards,   looking   gratefully   at   her   friend. 


342  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

"  It  is  a  small  share  of  this  world's  goods  that 
has  fallen  to  you,  but  your  neighbors  get  the 
best  of  what  does  come  to  you." 

"  Then  there's  some  other  reason  why  it 
wouldn't  be  good  for  me,"  said  Mrs.  Granby ; 
"  I'm  safe  in  believin'  that,  and  it  aint  go- 
in'  to  do  for  us  to  be  frettin'  and  pinin'  after 
what  we  haven't  got,  when  the  Almighty  has 
just  been  heapin'  so  much  on  us.  And  talkin' 
of  that,  Jennie,  you  wipe  your  eyes,  honey, 
and  come  along  to  the  kitchen  with  me ; 
there's  a  basket  Mrs.  Bradford  gave  me  to  un- 
pack. She  said  it  had  some  few  things  for 
Willie,  to  strengthen  him  up  a  bit  before  his 
eyes  were  done.  And  don't  let  the  father 
come  in  and  find  you  in  the  dumps  ;  that 
would  never  do.  So  cheer  up  and  come 
along  till  we  see  what  we  can  find." 

Jennie  raised  her  head,  wiped  her  eyes,  and 
followed  Mrs.  Granby,  who,  good,  trusting  soul, 
soon  talked  her  into  good-humor  and  content 
again. 

Meanwhile,  Maggie   and  Bessie  were  very 


Willie's  Recovery*  343 

full  of  the  wonderful  discovery  of  the  after- 
noon, and  could  scarcely  be  satisfied  without 
asking  Aunt  Patty  if  it  could  really  be  she 
who  had  been  to  the  policeman's  house  and 
carried  the  money  to  pay  his  debts ;  also, 
paid  Dr.  Dawson  for  the  operation  on  Willie's 
eyes.  But  as  mamma  had  forbidden  this,  and 
told  them  that  they  were  not  to  speak  of  it 
to  others,  they  were  obliged  to  be  content  with 
talking  of  it  between  themselves.  If  it  were 
actually  Aunt  Patty  who  had  done  this,  they 
should  look  upon  her  with  very  new  feelings. 
They  had  heard  from  others  that  she  could  do 
very  generous  and  noble  actions  ;  but  it  was 
one  thing  to  hear  of  them,  as  if  they  were 
some  half-forgotten  story  of  the  past,  and  an- 
other to  see  them  done  before  their  very  eyes. 
Aunt  Patty  was  not  rich.  What  she  gave  to 
others,  she  must  deny  to  herself,  and  they 
knew  this  must  have  cost  her  a  great  deal. 
She  had  given  up  the  grove,  on  which  she 
had  set  her  heart,  that  she  might  be  able  to 
help  the  family  in  whom  they  were  so  inter- 


344  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

ested,  —  people  of  whom  she  knew  nothing  but 
what  she  had  heard  from  them.  If  she  had 
really  been  so  generous,  so  self-sacrificing, 
they  thought  they  could  forgive  almost  any 
amount  of  crossness  and  meddling. 

"For,  after  all,  they're  only  the  corners," 
said  Maggie,  "  and  maybe  when  she  tried  to 
bear  the  policeman's  burden,  and  felt  bad  about 
the  grove,  that  made  her  burden  heavier,  and 
so  squeezed  out  her  corners  a  little  more,  and 
they  scratched  her  neighbors,  who  ought  not 
to  mind  if  that  was  the  reason.  But  I  do 
wish  we  could  really  know ;  don't  you,  Bes- 
sie ? " 

Putting  all  things  together,  there  did  not 
seem  much  reason  to  doubt  it.  The  police- 
man's children  were  positive  that  Mrs.  Law- 
rence was  the  very  lady  who  had  been  to  their 
house,  and  Aunt  Patty  had  been  out  on  two 
successive  days  at  such  hours  as  answered  to 
the  time  when  the  mysterious  old  lady  had 
visited  first  them,  and  then  Dr.  Dawson. 

Papa   and   Uncle  Ruthven  came  home  on 


Willie's  Recovery.  345 

the  evening  of  the  next  day,  having  made 
arrangements  that  satisfied  every  one  for 
the  summer  among  the  mountains.  Porter's 
house,  with  its  addition  and  new  conven- 
iences, was  just  the  place  for  the  party,  and 
would  even  afford  two  or  three  extra  rooms, 
in  case  their  friends  from  Riverside  wished  to 
join  them.  The  children  were  delighted  as 
their  father  spoke  of  the  wide,  roomy  old  hall, 
where  they  might  play  on  a  rainy  day,  of  the 
spacious,  comfortable  rooms  and  long  piazza  ; 
as  he  told  how  beautiful  the  lake  looked  even 
in  this  early  spring  weather,  and  of  the  grand 
old  rocks  and  thick  woods  which  would  soon 
be  covered  with  their  green  summer  dress. 
Still  Bessie  gave  a  little  sigh  after  her  beloved 
sea.  The  old  homestead  and  Aunt  Patty's 
cottage  were  about  four  miles  from  the  lake, 
just  a  pleasant  afternoon's  drive ;  and  at  the 
homestead  itself,  where  lived  Mr.  Bradford's 
cousin,  the  two  gentlemen  had  passed  the 
night.  Cousin  Alexander  had  been  very  glad 
to  hear  that  his  relations  were  coming  to  pass 


346  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

the  summer  at  Chalecoo  Lake,  and  his  four 
boys  promised  themselves  all  manner  of  pleas- 
ure in  showing  their  city  cousins  the  wonders 
of  the  neighborhood. 

"  It  all  looks  just  as  it  used  to  when  I  was 
a  boy,"  said  Mr.  Bradford.  "There  is  no 
change  in  the  place,  only  in  the  people."  He 
said  it  with  a  half-sigh,  but  the  children  did 
not  notice  it  as  they  pleased  themselves  with 
the  thought  of  going  over  the  old  place  where 
papa  had  lived  when  he  was  a  boy. 

"  I  went  to  the  spot  where  the  old  barn  was ' 
burned  down,  Aunt  Patty,"  he  said.  "No 
signs  of  the  ruins  are  to  be  seen,  as  you  know ; 
but  as  I  stood  there,  the  whole  scene  came 
back  to  me  as  freshly  as  if  it  had  happened 
yesterday ; "  and  he  extended  his  hand  to 
Aunt  Patty  as  he  spoke. 

The  old  lady  laid  her  own  within  his,  and 
the  grasp  he  gave  it  told  her  that  years  and 
change  had  not  done  away  with  the  grateful, 
memory  of  her  long  past  services.     She  was 
pleased   and   touched,  and  being  in   such   a 


Willie  s  Recovery.  347 

mood,  did  not  hesitate  to  express  the  pleasure 
she,  too,  felt  at  the  thought  of  having  them  all 
near  her  for  some  months. 

About  half-way  between  the  homestead  and 
the  Lake  House,  Mr.  Bradford  and  Mr.  Stan- 
ton had  found  board  for  Mrs.  Richards  and  her 
boy.  It  was  at  the  house  of  an  old  farmer 
who  well  remembered  Mr.  Bradford,  and  who 
said  he  was  pleased  to  do  anything  to  oblige 
him,  though  the  gentlemen  thought  that  the 
old  man  was  quite  as  well  satisfied  with  the 
idea  of  the  eight  dollars  a  week  he  had 
promised  in  payment.  And  this  was  to  come 
from  Maggie's  and  Bessie's  store,  which  had 
been  carefully  left  in  mamma's  hand  till 
such  time  as  it  should  be  needed.  All  this 
was  most  satisfactory  to  our  little  girls  ;  and 
when  it  should  be  known  that  the  operation 
on  Willie's  eyes  had  been  successful,  they 
were  to  go  to  Mrs.  Richards  and  tell  her  what 
had  been  done  for  her  boy's  farther  good. 

Mrs.  Bradford  told  her  husband  that  night 
of  all  that  had  taken  place  during  his  absence, 


348  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

and  he  quite  agreed  with  her  that  it  was  with* 
out  doubt  Aunt  Patty  herself  who  had  been 
the  policeman's  benefactor. 

"  I  am  not  at  all  surprised,"  he  said, 
"  though  I  own  that  this  did  not  occur  to  me, 
even  when  Richards  described  the  old  lady. 
It  is  just  like  Aunt  Patty  to  do  a  thing  in 
this  way  ;  and  her  very  secrecy  and  her  un- 
willingness to  confess  why  she  would  not 
have  the  grove,  or  what  she  intended  to  do 
with  the  money,  convinced  me  that  she  was 
sacrificing  herself  for  the  good  of  some  other 
person  or  persons." 

Then  Mr.  Bradford  told  his  wife  that  Aunt 
Patty  meant  to  go  home  in  about  ten  days, 
and  should  Willie's  sight  be  restored  before 
she  went,  he  hoped  to  be  able  to  persuade  her 
to  confess  that  she  had  had  a  share  in  bring- 
ing about  this  great  happiness.  He  was  very 
anxious  that  his  children  should  be  quite  cer- 
tain,.  of  this,  as  he  thought  it  would  go  far 
to  destroy  their  old  prejudice,  and  to  cause 
kind  feelings  and  respect  to  take  the  place  of 
their  former  fear  and  dislike. 


Willie's  Recovery,  349 

Mrs.  Bradford  said  that  good  had  been  done 
already  by  the  thought  that  it  was  probably 
Aunt  Patty  who  had  been  so  generous,  and 
that  the  little  ones  were  now  quite  as  ready  to 
believe  all  that  was  kind  and  pleasant  of  the 
old  lady  as  they  had  been  to  believe  all  that 
*vas  bad  but  two  days  since.  She  told  how 
they  had  come  to  her  that  morning,  Maggie 
saying,  "  Mamma,  Bessie  and  I  wish  to  give 
Aunt  Patty  something  to  show  we  have  more 
approval  of  her  than  we  used  to  have  ;  so  I 
tm  going  to  make  a  needle-book  and  Bessie  a 
jin-cushion,  and  put  them  in  her  work-basket 
.vithout  saying  anything  about  them." 

They  had  been  very  busy  all  the  morning 
contriving  and  putting  together  their  little 
gifts  without  any  help  from  older  people,  and 
when  they  were  finished,  had  placed  them  in 
Aunt  Patty's  basket,  hanging  around  in  order 
to  enjoy  her  surprise  and  pleasure  when  she 
should  find  them  there. 

But  the  poor  little  things  were  disappointed, 
they  could  scarcely  tell  why.     If  it  had  been 


350  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

mamma   or    Aunt  Bessie   who  had   received 

their  presents,  there  would  have  been  a  great 
time  when  they  were  discovered.  There  would 
have  been  exclamations  of  admiration  and  de- 
light and  much  wondering  as  to  who  could 
have  placed  them  there,  —  "  some  good  fairy 
perhaps  who  knew  that  these  were  the  very 
things  that  were  wanted,"  and  such  speeches, 
all  of  which  Maggie  and  Bessie  would  have  en- 
joyed highly,  and  at  last  it  would  be  asked  if 
they  could  possibly  have  made  them,  and 
then  would  have  come  thanks  and  kisses. 

But  nothing  of  this  kind  came  from  Aunt 
Patty.  She  could  not  enter  into  other  peo- 
ple's feelings  so  easily  as  those  who  had  been 
unselfish  and  thoughtful  for  others  all  their 
lives  ;  and  though  she  was  much  gratified  by 
these  little  tokens  from  the  children,  she  did 
not  show  half  the  pleasure  she  felt ;  perhaps 
she  really  did  not  know  how.  True  she  thanked 
them,  and  said  she  should  keep  the  needle- 
oook  and  pin-cushion  as  long  as  she  lived  ;  but 
ehe  expressed  no  surprise,  and  did  not  praise 


Willie's  Recovery.  351 

the  work  with  which  they  had  taken  so  much 
pains. 

"  What  is  this  trash  in  my  basket  ?  "  she 
said,  when  she  discovered  them.  "  Children, 
here  are  some  of  your  baby-rags." 

"Aunt  Patty,"  said  Mrs.  Bradford,  quickly, 
"  they  are  intended  for  you  ;  the  children  have 
been  at  work  over  them  all  the  morning." 

"Oh!"  said  Mrs.  Lawrence,  changing  her 
tone.  "  1  did  not  understand.  I  am  sure  I 
thank  you  very  much,  my  dears;  and  when 
you  come  to  see  me  this  summer,  I  shall  show 
you  how  to  do  far  better  than  this.  I  have  a 
quantity  of  scraps  and  trimmings  of  all  kinds, 
of  which  you  can  make  very  pretty  things." 

This  was  intended  to  be  kind ;  but  the 
promise  for  the  future  did  not  make  up  for 
the  disappointment  of  the  present;  and  the 
children  turned  from  her  with  a  feeling  that 
their  pains  had  been  almost  thrown  away. 

"  Mamma,"  Bessie  had  said  afterwards,  "  do 
you  think  Aunt  Patty  was  very  grateful  for 
our  presents?" 


352  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

"  Yes,  dear,  I  think  she  was,"  said  mamma, 
"  and  I  think  she  meant  to  show  it  in  her  own 
way." 

"  But,  mamma,  do  you  think  that  was  a 
nice  way  ?  You  would  not  have  said  that  to 
any  one,  and  I  felt  as  if  I  wanted  to  cry  a 
little." 

Mamma  had  seen  that  her  darlings  were 
both  hurt,  and  she  felt  very  sorry  for  them, 
but  she  thought  it  best  to  make  light  of  it,  so 
said,  cheerfully,  "  I  am  quite  sure  Aunt  Patty 
was  gratified,  pussy,  and  that  whenever  she 
looks  at  your  presents,  she  will  think  with  pleas- 
ure of  the  kind  little  hands  that  made  them." 

"  When  I  am  big,  and  some  one  gives  me 
something  I  have  pleasure  in,  I'll  try  to  show 
the  pleasure  in  a  nice  way,"  said  Maggie. 

u  Then  you  must  not  forget  to  do  it  while 
you  are  young,"  said  mamma.  "  Let  this 
show  you  how  necessary  it  is  to  learn  pleasant 
habits  of  speaking  and  acting  while  you  are 
young." 

"  Yes,"  said  Maggie,  with  a  long  sigh,  "  and 


Willie's  Recovery.  353 

Aunt  Patty  ought  to  be  excused.  I  suppose, 
since  she  was  not  brought  up  in  the  way 
she  should  go  when  she  was  young,  she  ought 
to  be  expected  to  depart  from  it  when  she  is 
old.  We  must  just  make  the  best  of  it  when 
she  don't  know  any  better,  and  take  example 
of  her." 

"  Yes,"  said  mamma,  rather  amused  at  the 
way  in  which  Maggie  had  put  into  words  the 
very  thought  that  was  in  her  own  mind  ;  "let 
us  make  the  best  of  everything,  and  be  always 
ready  to  believe  the  best  of  those  about  us." 

All  this  Mrs.  Bradford  told  to  her  husband, 
and  agreed  with  him  that  it  was  better  not  to 
endeavor  to  find  out  anything  more  till  the 
trial  on  Willie's  eyes  was  over. 

Maggie's  new  volume  of  "  The  Complete 
Family "  was  begun  the  next  day  in  these 
words  :  "  Once  there  was  a  man  who  lived  in 
his  home  in  the  mountains,  and  who  always 
listened  very  modestly  to  everything  that  was 
said  to  him,  so  his  wife  used  to  say  a  great 
deal   to  him.     And   one   day  she   said,  '  My 

23 


354  -Beside  and  her  Friends, 

dear,  Mr,  and  Mrs.  Happy,  with  all  their  fan> 
ily,  and  a  great  lot  of  their  best  friends,  are 
coming  to  live  with  us  this  summer,  and  they 
are  used  to  having  a  very  nice  time,  so  we 
must  do  all  we  can  to  make  them  comforta- 
ble, or  maybe  they  will  say,  "  Pooh,  this  is 
not  a  nice  place  at  all.  Let  us  go  to  the  sea 
again.  These  are  very  horrid  people  !  "  '  And 
the  man  said,  '  By  all  means,  my  dear  ;  and 
we  will  give  them  all  they  want,  and  let  them 
look  at  the  mountains  just  as  much  as  they 
choose.  But  I  do  not  think  they  will  say  un- 
kind words  even  if  you  are  a  little  disagreea- 
ble, but  will  make  the  best  of  you,  and  think 
you  can't  help  it.'  Which  was  quite  true,  for 
M.  Happy  and  B.  Happy  had  a  good  lesson 
the  man  did  not  know  about,  and  had  made  a 
mistake ;  and  sometimes  when  people  seem 
dreadfully  hateful,  they  are  very  nice,  —  I 
mean  very  good,  —  so  it's  not  of  great  conse 
quence  if  they  are  not  so  nice  as  some  people, 
and  they  ought  not  to  be  judged,  for  maybe 
they  have  a  burden.     And  M.  Happy  made 


Willie's  Recovery.  355 

two  mistakes ;  one  about  Mrs.  Jones,  and  the 
other  about  that  other  one  mamma  don't  want 
me  to  write  about.  So  this  book  will  be  about 
how  they  went  to  the  mountains  and  had  a 
lovely  time.     I  guess  we  will." 

Rather  more  than  a  week  had  gone  by. 
Willie  Richards  lay  on  his  bed  in  a  darkened 
room,  languid  and  weak,  his  eyes  bandaged, 
his  face  paler  than  ever,  but  still  cheerful  and 
patient.  It  was  five  days  since  the  operation 
had  been  performed,  but  Willie  had  not  yet 
seen  the  light,  nor  was  it  certain  that  he 
would  ever  do  so,  though  the  doctor  hoped 
and  believed  that  all  had  gone  well.  They 
had  given  the  boy  chloroform  at  the  time,  and 
then  bound  his  eyes  before  he  had  recovered 
his  senses.  But  on  this  day  the  bandage  was 
to  be  taken  off  for  the  first,  and  then  they 
should  know.  His  mother  sat  beside  Jiim 
holding  his  thin,  worn  hand  in  hers. 

"  Willie,"  she  said,  "  the  doctor  is  to  be 
here  presently,  and  he  will  take  the  bandage 
from  your  eyes." 


356  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

"  And  will  I  see  then,  mother  ?  " 

"  If  God  pleases,  dear.  But,  Willie,  if  he 
does  not  see  fit  to  give  you  back  your  sight, 
could  you  bear  it,  and  try  to  think  that  it  is 
his  will,  and  he  knows  best  ?  " 

Willie  drew  a  long,  heavy  breath,  and  was 
silent  a  moment,  grasping  his  mother's  fingers 
till  the  pressure  almost  pained  her  ;  then  he 
said,  low,  and  with  a  quiver  in  his  voice,  "  I 
would  try,  mother ;  but  it  would  be  'most  too 
hard  after  all.  If  it  could  be  just  for  a  little 
while,  just  so  I  could  see  your  dear  face  for  a 
few  moments,  then  I  would  try  to  say,  i  Thy 
will  be  done.'  " 

"  However  it  is,  we  must  say  that,  my  boy  ; 
but,  please  the  Lord,  we  shall  yet  praise  him 
for  his  great  goodness  in  giving  you  back 
your  poor,  dear  eyes." 

As  she  spoke,  the  door  opened,  and  her  hus- 
band put  his  head  in. 

"  Here's  the  doctor,  Mary,"  he  said,  with  a 
voice  that  shook,  in  spite  of  his  efforts  to  keep 
it  steady  ;  and  then  he  came  in,  followed  by 
the  doctor  and  Mrs.  Granby. 


Willie's  Recovery,  357 

The  latter,  by  the  doctor's  orders,  opened 
the* window  so  as  to  let  in  a  little  softened 
light,  and  after  a  few  cheerful  words  the  doc- 
tor unfastened  the  bandage,  and  uncovered 
the  long  sightless  eyes.  Willie  was  resting  in 
his  mother's  arms  with  his  head  back  against 
her  shoulder,  and  she  knew  that  he  had 
turned  it  so  that  her  face  might  be  the  first 
object  his  eyes  rested  on. 

It  was  done  ;  and,  with  a  little  glad  cry,  the 
boy  threw  up  his  arms  about  his  mother's 
neck. 

"  What  is  it,  Willie  ?  "  asked  his  father, 
scarcely  daring  to  trust  his  voice  to  speak. 

"  I  saw  it !     I  saw  it  !  "  said  the  boy. 

"  Saw  what,  sonny  ? "  asked  his  father, 
wishing  to  be  sure  that  the  child  could  really 
distinguish  objects. 

"  I  saw  mother's  face,  her  dear,  dear  face  \ 
and  I  see  you,  too,  father.  Oh,  God  is  so 
good  !  I  will  be  such  a  good  boy  all  my  life. 
Oh,  will  I  never  have  to  fret  to  see  mother's 
face  asain  ? " 


3$8  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

"  Ahem  ! "  said  the  doctor,  turning  to  a 
table  and  beginning  to  measure  some  drops 
into  a  glass,  while  Mrs.  Granby  stood  crying 
for  joy  at  the  other  end  of  the  room.  u  If 
you're  not  to,  you  must  keep  more  quiet  than 
this,  my  boy  ;  it  will  not  do  for  you  to  grow 
excited.     Here,  take  this.,, 

"  Who's  that  ?  "  asked  Willie,  as  the  strange 
face  met  his  gaze. 

"  Ho,  ho !  "  said  the  doctor.  "  Are  you  go- 
ing to  lose  your  ears  now  you  have  found 
your  eyes  ?  I  thought  you  knew  all  our 
voices,  my  fine  fellow." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Willie,  "I  know  now; 
it's  the  doctor.  Doctor,  was  I  just  as  patient 
as  you  wanted  me  to  be  ?  " 

"  First-rate,"  answered  the  doctor  ;  "  but 
you  must  have  a  little  more  patience  yet.  I'M 
leave  the  bandage  off,  but  we  will  not  have 
quite  so  much  light  just  now,  Mrs.  Granby." 

Willie  begged  for  one  look  at  Auntie 
Granby,  and  then  Jennie  was  called,  that  he 
might  have  a  peep  at  her,  after  which  he  was 


Willie's  Recovery.  359 

content  to  take  the  medicine  and  lie  down, 
still  holding  his  mother's  hand,  and  now  and 
then  putting  up  his  fingers  with  a  wistful 
smile  to  touch  the  dearly  loved  face  he  could 
still  see  bending  over  him  in  the  dim  light. 

That  evening  the  policeman  went  up  to 
Mr.  Bradford's.  He  was  asked  to  walk  into 
the  parlor,  where  sat  Mr.  Bradford  and  Aunt 
Patty,  while  old  nurse  was  just  taking  Maggie 
and  Bessie  off  to  bed. 

u  Oh,  here  is  our  policeman !  "  said  Bessie  ; 
and  she  ran  up  to  him,  holding  out  her  hand. 
"  How  is  your  Willie  ?  " 

"  That's  just  what  I  came  to  tell  you,  dear. 
I  made  bold  to  step  up  and  let  you  know 
about  Willie,  sir,"  he  said,  turning  to  Mr. 
Bradford. 

"  And  what  is  the  news  ?  "  asked  the  gen- 
tleman. 

"  The  best,  sir.  The  Lord  has  crowned  all 
his  mercies  to  us  by  giving  us  back  our  boy's 
sight." 

"  And  has  Willie  seen  his  mother's  face  2  " 
asked  Bessie,  eagerly. 


360  Bessie  and  her  Friends, 

"  Yes,  that  he  has.  He  took  care  thai 
should  be  the  first  thing  his  eyes  opened  on  ; 
and  it  just  seems  as  if  he  could  not  get  his 
full  of  looking  at  it.  He  always  was  a  mother 
boy,  my  Willie,  but  more  than  ever  so  since 
his  blindness." 

"  How  is  he  ? "  asked  Mr.  Bradford. 

"  Doing  nicely,  sir.  Rather  weakish  yet ; 
but  when  he  can  bear  the  light,  and  get  out 
into  the  fresh  air,  it  will  do  him  good  ;  and  I 
hope  he'll  come  round  after  a  spell,  now  that 
his  mind  is  at  ease,  and  he's  had  a  sight  of 
that  he'd  set  his  heart  on,  even  if  we  can't 
just  follow  out  the  doctor's  orders." 

Bessie  felt  as  if  she  could  keep  her  secret 
no  longer.  "  May  I,  papa,  —  may  I  ?  "  she 
asked. 

Papa  understood  her,  and  nodded  assent. 

"  But  you  can  follow  the  doctor's  orders," 
said  she,  turning  again  to  the  policeman,  "  and 
Willie  can  have  all  the  fresh  air  he  needs,  — 
fresh  mountain  air,  he  and  his  mother.  And 
Maggie  and  I  are  to  pay  it  out  of  the  money 


Willie's  Recovery.  36] 

that  Uncle  Ruth  veil  gave  us  for  the  eye  docto? 
whom  the  " —  here  Bessie  looked  half  doubt- 
fully towards  Aunt  Patty  — "  the  old  ladj 
paid.  And  now,  you  see,  it's  a  great  deal 
nicer,  'cause  if  she  hadn't,  then,  maybe,  Willie 
couldn't  go  to  the  country." 

Bessie  talked  so  fast  that  Richards  did  not 
understand  at  first,  and  her  father  had  to  ex- 
plain.    The  man  was  quite  overcome. 

"  It's  too  much,  sir,  it's  too  much,"  he 
said,  in  a  husky  voice,  twisting  his  cap  round 
and  round  in  his  hands.  "  It  was  the  last 
thing  was  wanting,  and  1  feel  as  if  I  had  noth- 
ing to  say.  There  aint  no  words  to  tell  what 
I  feel.  I  can  only  say  may  the  Lord  bless  you 
and  yours,  and  grant  you  all  your  desires  in 
such  measure  as  he  has  done  to  me." 

Mr.  Bradford  then  told  what  arrangements 
had  been  made,  in  order  to  give  Richards  time 
to  recover  himself.  The  policeman  thought 
all  these  delightful,  and  said  he  knew  his  wife 
and  boy  would  feel  that  they  could  never  be 
thankful  and  happy  enough. 


362  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

"  And  to  think  that  all  this  has  come  out  of 
that  little  one  being  brought  up  to  the  station 
that  day,  sir  ;  it's  past  belief  almost,"  he  said. 

"  So  good  has  been  brought  out  of  evil," 
said  Mr.  Bradford. 

As  soon  as  the  policeman  had  gone,  Maggie 
and  Bessie  ran  up-stairs  to  tell  their  mother 
the  good  news,  leaving  papa  and  Aunt  Patty 
alone  together.  Mr.  Bradford  then  turned  to 
the  old  lady,  and  laying  his  hand  gently  on 
her  shoulder,  said,  — 

"  Aunt  Patty,  you  have  laid  up  your  treas- 
ure where  moth  and  rust  do  not  corrupt ;  but 
surely  it  is  bearing  interest  on  earth." 

"  How  ?  Why  ?  What  do  yon  mean, 
Henry?"  said  Mrs.  Lawrence,  with  a  little 
start. 

"  Come,  confess,  Aunt  Patty,"  he  said ; 
"  acknowledge  that  it  is  to  you  this  good  fel- 
low who  has  just  left  us  owes  his  freedom 
from  debt,  his  child's  eyesight,  his  release 
from  cares  which  were  almost  too  much 
even   for    his    hopeful    spirit  ;     acknowledge 


Willie's  Recovery.  363 

that  you  have  generously  sacrificed  a  long- 
cherished  desire,  given  up  the  fruits  of  much 
saving  and  self-denial,  to  make  those  happy  iu 
whom  you  could  have  had  no  interest  save  as 
creatures  and  children  of  one  common  Father. 
We  all  know  it.  The  policeman's  children 
recognized  you,  and  told  my  little  ones.  Why 
will  you  not  openly  share  with  us  the  pleasure 
we  must  all  feel  at  the  blind  boy's  restoration 
to  sight  ?  Did  you  not  see  dear  Bessie's  wist- 
ful look  at  you  as  she  bade  you  good-night  ? 
These  little  ones  cannot  understand  why  there 
should  be  any  reason  to  hide  such  kindness  as 
you  have  shown  to  these  people,  or  why  you 
should  refuse  to  show  an  interest  you  really 
feel.  It  is  true  that  we  are  told  not  to  let  our 
left  hand  know  that  which  is  done  by  our 
right  hand  ;  but  are  we  not  also  commanded 
so  to  let  our  light  shine  before  men  that  they 
may  see  our  good  works  and  glorify  our  Fa- 
ther in  heaven  ?  And  can  we  do  so,  or  truly 
show  our  love  to  him,  if  we  hide  the  services 
rendered  for  his  sake  behind  a  mask  of  cold- 


364  Bessie  and  her  Friends. 

ness  and  reserve  ?  My  dear  aunt,  for  his 
sake,  for  your  own,  for  the  sake  of  the  affec- 
tion and  confidence  which  I  wish  my  children 
to  feel  for  you,  and  which  I  believe  you  wish 
to  gain,  let  me  satisfy  them  that  it  was  really 
you  who  did  this  thing." 

The  old  lady  hesitated  for  a  moment  longer, 
and  then  she  broke  down  in  a  burst  of  humil- 
ity and  penitence  such  as  Mr.  Bradford  had 
never  expected  to  see  from  her.  She  told  him 
how  she  had  heard  them  all  talking  of  the  po- 
liceman and  his  troubles,  and  how  much  she 
had  wished  that  she  was  able  to  help  him ; 
how  she  had  thought  that  the  desire  to  have 
the  grove  was  only  a  fancy,  right  in  itself  per- 
haps, but  not  to  be  indulged  if  she  could  bet- 
ter spend  the  money  for  the  good  of  others ; 
and  how,  without  taking  much  time  to  con- 
sider the  matter,  she  had  decided  to  give  it  up. 
Then  she  had  half  regretted  it,  but  would  not 
confess  to  herself  or  others  that  she  did  so,  and 
so,  feeling  irritable  and  not  at  ease  with  herself, 
had  been   impatient   and   angry  at  the  least 


Willie's  Recovery,  365 

thing  which  seemed  to  oppose  her  plans.  The 
children,  she  said,  had  shamed  her  by  their 
greater  patience  and  submission  under  the 
disappointment  she  had  so  unintentionally 
brought  upon  them,  and  now  she  felt  that  the 
ill-temper  she  had  shown  had  brought '  re- 
proach on  the  Master  whom  she  really  wished 
to  serve,  and  destroyed  the  little  influence  she 
had  been  able  to  gain  with  the  children. 

Mr.  Bradford  told  her  he  thought  she  was 
mistaken  here,  and  if  the  children  could  only 
be  quite  certain  that  it  was  she  who  had 
proved  such  a  good  friend  to  the  policeman's 
family,  they  would  forget  all  else  in  their 
pleasure  at  her  kindness  and  sympathy. 

So  Mrs.  Lawrence  told  him  to  do  as  he 
thought  best ;  and  she  found  it  was  as  he  said  ; 
for  when  Maggie  and  Bessie  came  down  in  the 
morning,  full  of  joy  at  the  happiness  which 
had  come  to  Willie  and  his  parents,  they  ran 
at  once  to  Aunt  Patty,  and  Bessie,  putting 
her  little  arms  about  her  neck,  whispered,  — 

"  Dear  Aunt  Patty,  we're  so  much  obliged 


366  Itessie  and  her  Friends. 

to  .you  about  Willie,  and  if  we  had  only 
known  it  was  you,  we  wouldn't  have  felt  so 
bad  about  it.  Now  we  only  feel  glad,  and 
don't  you  feel  glad,  too,  when  you  know  how 
happy  they  all  are  ?  " 

Then  Maggie  sidled  up,  and  slipping  her 
hand  into  Aunt  Patty's,  said,  — 

"  Aunt  Patty,  please  to  forgive  me  for  say- 
ing naughty  things  about  you  when  I  didn't 
know  you  was  the  queer  old  lady." 

Aunt  Patty  was  quite  ready  to  exchange 
forgiveness  ;  and  for  the  two  remaining  days 
of  her  stay,  it  seemed  as  if  her  little  nieces 
could  not  do  enough  to  show  how  pleased  and 
grateful  they  were ;  and  when  she  left  them, 
they  could  tell  her  with  truth  how  glad  they 
were  that  they  were  to  see  her  soon  again  in 
her  own  home. 

And  if  you  are  not  tired  of  Maggie  and 
Bessie,  you  may  some  time  learn  how  they 
spent  their  summer  among  the  mountains. 


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